


All the G/t SPN

by ktdog1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Demon Dean Winchester, Fluff, G/T, Gen, M/M, Macro/Micro, Macrophilia, Microphilia, Mouthplay, Multi, Overstimulation, PWP without Porn, Series of Oneshots, Sex Toys, Shrinking, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, Spiders, The ships are separated by chapter, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unaware, Vibrating, dubcon, oneshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 17:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 52
Words: 75,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16837234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktdog1/pseuds/ktdog1
Summary: This is the remnants of the blog Pocketable-SPN from tumblr. All original posts have been copied over to this work so they can still be enjoyed while the account is gone. Thanks for all the fun, you guys (:





	1. Shrunk Sam Drabble

This has got to be  _the worst_ day that Sam has had in a long time. After all, waking up in a sea of blanket and discovering that you had unexpectedly dropped about six feet in height wasn’t a great way to start the morning. It took Sam longer than he’d like to admit to safely scale down his bedside and trek through the seemingly endless hallways of the bunker to his brother’s bedroom, but he managed it with a considerable amount of time and persistence.  
Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse after the tiny Winchester scaled to the top of Dean’s bed. Sam took a moment to openly gawk at the colossal sleeping man before him, and no, the irony of that giant being his  _big_ brother didn’t escape him. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, the tiny man purposefully strode forward, intent on alerting Dean to their latest supernatural phenomenon (AKA, himself).  
It was an unfortunate twist of fate that the eldest Winchester changed positions in his sleep at that moment; rolling onto his back so that Sam was stuck under Dean’s (thankfully boxer covered) ass before he could do so much as give a shout. Though an immense pressure pinned the tiny in place, Sam sent up a silent thanks that his brother’s memory foam mattress did such a good job at distributing his weight, because Sam could’ve most likely become a pancake without it. Sam didn’t get more than a moment to appreciate this, as things suddenly got a Hell of a lot worse when Cas flew into the room, and, damn, this just wasn’t Sam’s day.


	2. Big Dean Sitting on Tiny Sam

  
Think of Sam and Cas not being able to immediately find a cure for demon Dean’s, well, demon-ness, but Cas was able to dig up an ancient spell from some long-lost language that would make Dean easier to handle- literally. Hey, at least with the demonic Winchester shrunken down to no more than a couple of inches tall, the two don’t have to worry about him murdering them in their sleep, which is a bonus (Not that that tiny terror wouldn’t give it his best shot a couple of times, but his powers got shrunk with the spell, too). But just because they’re able to stop the little guy from killing them anytime soon doesn’t mean that he’s gotten any easier to be around. Demon Dean would always be throwing little barbed comments at the men who now towered above him, confident that the worst the giants would do is trap him in a salt circle till their precious feelings stopped hurting. Honestly though, there’s only so much that a person can put up with, especially when they’re spending all day and night either researching for a cure to being a demon or chasing after the tiny black-eyed sonuvagun that Sam has the pleasure of calling his brother.

It’d be after a particularly rude remark that Sam would finally snap- turning towards the miniaturized big brother that he’d been trying his hardest to ignore, the youngest Winchester would snatch the demon up in a fist that was big enough to completely envelope the small body, stand up, roughly drop Dean down on the seat of the chair that Sam had been occupying before preceding to promptly sit on top of that little prick before the damn tiny could even spit out a protest. After that, it was actually pretty easy for Sam to disregard demon Dean’s squirms and muffled curses (but the sharp pinch of a bite had Sam shifting more of his weight onto Dean until the biter gave up and loosened his jaw’s clamp on Sam’s rear-end) as Sam was finally able to focus on his research for the first time all week.


	3. April Fools, Kiddo

Sam was ready for anything. It was April Fool’s day, and even though he and Dean had sworn not to start yet another one of their prank wars due to this ridiculous ‘holiday,’ Sam knew that the likelihood of Dean sticking to his promise was close to none. So, here he was, reading a book in the Bat Cave’s library, waiting for whatever Dean had up his sleeves.   
Imagine his surprise though, where in one moment he was holding the heavy, dusty tome in his hands, and the next he was knocked flat on his back on some unfamiliar surface, the air having rushed out of his lungs like he just took a particularly hard hit from the nasty of the week.   
_That might not be too far of base_ , Sam thought to himself as he cautiously sat up, still slightly breathless from whatever had just happened.  _What the Hell was that,_ he questioned _, and where am I now?_   
Examining the almost unbelievably large, cavernous place he was now, realization slowly trickled into Sam’s mind. He hadn’t actually gone anywhere; the ridiculously cavernous walls and ceiling that surrounded him was actually the same library he had been in before, just somehow bigger- _scratch that, freakin’ ginormous_ . Shaking off any potentially rising panic, the youngest Winchester switched to his secondary mindset;  _treat this like any other case, Sam, come one, figure out what you got to work with right now._   
A glance down at his feet told Sam that he was standing on the aged pages of the volume he had been enjoying from the plate-sized letters covering the paper. Beyond the book’s boundaries was sure to be the table, and past that the long, stretching hallways of the bunker. Getting help from Dean wasn’t gonna happen anytime soon, nor would it be easy- Sam did not look forward to trying to get his brother’s attention at this size while avoiding getting smushed. The older brother tended to lean towards the ways of kill first, question later, and he was not different towards bugs, which is what Sam was sure that Dean could easily mistake him for at this height.   
But staying here wasn’t doing the newly tiny Winchester any favors, so he steeled his determination and set off towards the edge of the book. After only a handful of steps, Sam heard a loud, low noise and felt the pages beneath his shoes shift and rumble slightly. He only had enough time to look up and see the other half of the book rapidly rising up and over, heading towards the side of the pages he was standing on before he was crushed by the thick, heavy paper.   
Or not. The dense, pressing weight of the book was still pushing Sam down so that the man wasn’t able to so much as twitch, but the Winchester was still, surprisingly, in one piece. This book was huge; it should’ve squashed him like a bug. Sam should be dead right now, but for some reason he wasn’t even badly injured, beside a couple aches and pains, which was still nothing compared to how hurt he should’ve been.  _Alright, so add potential invincibility to the shrinking experience. This entire situation just gets keeps getting weirder and weirder._   
“Really, Sammitch? You think I’d let you get offed so easily? Give me some credit, now, I’m practically a saint- or a monk, at least. And what fun would it be if you died so early in the game? This shindig hasn’t even got started, so we can’t have you checking out just yet, can we?”   
_That voice … It couldn’t be, could it? No way. How? How-_   
“Eh, it’s all wibbly wobbly, timey whimey stuff, Samsquatch, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” And with that, the overpowering pressure that had Sam pinned was lifted from his small form as the book was opened.   
Sam didn’t have enough time to cherish being relieved from the smothering burden before he was enclosed in a warm, leathery object and promptly picked up. Now, he may now be the Winchester with the fear of heights, but nonetheless, Sam’s stomach churned at the nauseating feeling of soaring through the air without any warning. Then the object-  _no, the hand_ \- that had held Sam opened up to a flat, steady surface. The miniature hunter scrambled to his feet on the palm, looking up with wide hazel eyes at the towering figure before him.   
“Gabriel,” came Sam’s shaky exhale.   
“The one and only,” the archangel jubilantly snarked, amber eyes gleaming as he casually held the diminished Winchester in his hand, appearing completely at ease as he reclined against the table’s edge and especially  _not-dead_ while beholding the oddity before himself. “I know it’s been a while, but you look different. What is it; new haircut, new style? Sammy, did you lose weight?”   
Initial shock rapidly wearing off, Sam ground his teeth in frustration at the Trickster’s antics, the slow burning trepidation that had been gnawing at the back of his mind was immediately put out by Gabriel’s presence, giving the younger Winchester the courage to shoot the towering giant a ruthless bitch face. “I know that you’re behind this, Gabe, so you can knock the innocent act. What I don’t know is how you’re even here right now.”   
“That’s you and that knuckle-headed brother of your’s fault: you still haven’t angel-proofed this MOL bunker yet, which is practically an invitation in my book.” Only when Sam’s bitch face only became impossible more severe did Gabriel sigh in over-exaggerated exasperation, his hot, sweet breath ruffling Sam’s hair. “C’mon, Mini-Moose, I’m an archangel! It’s gonna take more than dear big bro Lucy throwing a temper tantrum to put an end to this firework show,” he said with a wink.   
Once it was apparent that the Trickster would say no more on the subject, the hunter toned down his expression to a chastising glower. “Fine,” Sam stated, “but don’t think I’m not gonna ask you more about that later.”   
“Wouldn’t expect any different,” he chuckled lightheartedly, reaching forward with his other hand and messing up Sam’s hair with the lightest brush of a finger, ignoring Sam’s flinch at the motion and annoyed huff at the action.   
Batting away the offending appendage, Sam unsuccessfully strived to de-fluff his hair. “Alright, Gabriel, you’ve had your laugh, now turn me back.” Sam waited a second, but the Trickster’s smirk only gained a more rascally quality to it.   
“Oh, Bitesize, the joke hasn’t even begun yet.”   
At the resounding snap of those giant fingers, Sam was subjected to that gut-wrenching sensation that is inherent to flying on angel airline. The world exploded in a flurry of color, only to settle a second later on a dim, shadowed place that smelt horrible and only had one source of light- a circular opening that was far out of Sam’s reach.   
“ _Gabriel!_ This  _isn’t_ funny, you-”   
“Ah, sure it is, Thumbelina, you just haven’t heard the punchline yet.” Instead of coming from a single direction like a voice should have, Gabriel’s words seemed to come from all around him. Sam just decided to chalk it up to archangel mojo instead of get a headache overthinking it. “Now, if I were you, I’d try and get out before beloved big brother decides to put his shoes on. And I’m pretty sure he’s planning on going into town soon, so you’d better get a move on it.”   
Sam looked around at his prison with this new knowledge, eagerly searching for a way to escape what would definitely be an unpleasant situation at any moment.   
“Oh yeah,” the disembodied voice called out one last time, filled with obvious mirth over the shrunken man’s position. “Almost forgot.  _April Fools, Kiddo_ .”


	4. The Massage Chair

There weren’t too many things that Dean missed about living on the open road, always traveling without a place to really call his and Sam’s own. The Men of Letter’s Bunker had given them more than just a home base, but an actual home, and Dean wouldn’t give that up for most anything, excluding the obvious. He loved having his own room, kitchen, bathroom, Hell, a friggin’ firing range, even more so that Dean could say that they were  _his_ .   
What he did miss, however, was the ease of finding a one-night stand while on their travels, not having to worry about lingering attachments that Dean couldn’t afford to create, and the ability to ease any pent up stress through engaging some frisky young thing in the midnight swing. And, once every blue moon, if Dean struck out, the brothers might stumble across a motel with those heavenly Magic Fingers beds that the older Winchester would waste no time in putting to good use.   
That’s what brings Dean to this present moment- with him eagerly clapping his hands together and rubbing them with anticipation before launching himself at the large cardboard box that he had hauled all the way from a post office a couple of towns away and back to his bedroom in the bunker. This massage chair was top of the market, with all the different settings and intensities and buttons that he could push until the beautiful piece of machinery rubbed and vibrated away every ache, pain, and tenseness in the hunter’s body. Dean had looked into buying a Magic Fingers bed for himself, but they had been unfortunately discontinued after the company had been sued for being a safety hazard, or whatever. Well, that’s just typical, isn’t it? The world gives you something precious and special and vibrate-y and they take it away from you cause of a one fire too many. Sheesh, people these days. So then Dean had to settle for second best, a massage chair in the place of a massage bed, and he decided to treat himself by getting a really nice one, because, damnit, anyone who saves the world on more than one occasion should be able to just lay back and rewind every once in a while with a little mechanical assistance.   
So after half an hour of assembly, the eldest Winchester proudly stands back and beholds his finished masterpiece. Just before he’s about to settle down on this baby and give it a go, he hesitates. Dean just needs two things to make this christening perfect. After a final look of longing, the hunter rushes off to retrieve his necessities.   
  
Sam didn’t  _know_ how this happened, he didn’t  _care_ how this happened, he just wanted this to be  _over_ and for himself to be taller than _three inches_ again. Having been stuck up on the kitchen’s counter with no way to get down for over two hours, it was an understatement to say that the younger Winchester was impatient for Dean to show up so that he could try and get his brother’s attention.   
When Dean finally did enter the kitchen, about another half hour later, Sam didn’t waste a moment. As the now mountainous man sped around the kitchen with childlike joy pasted on his freckled face, the tiny hunter called out to him at the top of the pint-sized guy’s lungs, waving his arms and jumping up and down, but it was all for not; Dean just wasn’t paying attention, his mind obviously fixated on something else.   
But desperate times call for desperate measures, so as the colossal form passed by Sam for what the shrunken man new to be the last time, seeing as Dean had grabbed as many snacks that he could hold onto, the little brother summoned his bravery and a dash of recklessness and leapt off the edge of the counter, arms outstretched.   
The moment his hands came in contact with fabric, they immediately latched on with a death-grip, adrenaline coursing through his miniature form as the rough material of jeans shifted under his hands with every stretching stride that Dean took. A shuddery breath flew from Sam’s mouth as he focused solely on  _not letting go_ , not even daring to release his hold to get a better grip on the constantly moving clothing.   
If Sam was being truthful, this probably wasn’t the best plan he’s ever come up with, but it definitely wasn’t the worst either. However, the moment Dean and, subsequently, Sam entered the big brother’s room, Sam took it back; this was an absolutely _horrendous_ idea, this was a disastrous one, because during all the tumult caused by the youngest Winchester’s newly earned status of being a borrower, Sam had forgotten all about Dean’s new massage chair. Sam barely had time to utter a forlorn curse before he was pinned between Dean’s ass and the high-quality leather of the seat, completely enveloped in darkness with no way to escape until the giant chose to get up, which, judging by the copious amounts of snacks that Dean had hauled in here, wouldn’t be for the foreseeable future.   
  
A pleased sigh was drawn from Dean as he reclined in the massage chair. Taking a moment to situate himself and organize his snacks, Dean bounced lightly on the chair’s seat, appreciating the quality leather that padded it. Momentarily half-standing up, the Winchester pulled his phone from his pocket before falling back onto the seat. Free hand snatching up the chair’s remote control, Dean examined all the different settings with wide eyes, excited to discover which he would enjoy the most.   
Five minutes of fiddling and experimentation later, the hunter had achieved massage chair ecstasy. There were rolling balls just under the chair’s surface that kneaded out all the sore muscles in his back, legs, and butt on a deep tissue setting. A few were designated to his spine, regularly traveling up and down the center of his back so that Dean was steadily turning to Jell-O at their touch. It was like having twenty personal masseuses tending to his every whim all at once. The vibrations though- the vibrations just stole the show.   
They washed over him in waves and bursts of intensity, and if Dean was looking for a different type of pleasure, he’d most definitely be putting this massage chair to use, because the most intense vibrations were focused on his ass, which he appreciatively ground down on repeatedly. The machine hummed and whirred as concentrated pulsations worked their way deep through Dean’s body, and all he could say was “Damn, should’a got one of these baby’s years ago.”   
With no intent of moving an inch for hours to come, Dean’s phone brought up the latest episode of Dr. Sexy MD, which the hunter watched with half-lidded eyes, occasionally grabbing a handful or snacks or letting a soft moan escape his lips as a particularly stubborn muscle relaxed under this amazing machine’s ministrations.   
  
Being sat on by his older brother really hadn’t been as bad as Sam had thought, that is, until Dean turned on the massage chair. The first time one of those hard plastic balls had rolled over Sam’s body, firmly pushing him up and against his big brother’s firm ass, Sam’s breath had been knocked out of him with a quiet “ _oomph_ !” And then it had happened again. And again, and again, and again. Eventually, Sam became accustomed to the chair’s rhythm, and was able to brace himself against the literal full-body massage by basketball-sized rollers that he was being forced to endure.   
But then the giant on top of him found the vibration settings, and everything got about a thousand times worse for his three-inch tall brother, because, while Dean ramped up the vibration’s power setting to its max, Sam discovered that he had been stuck directly between the restraining weight of his big brother and one of the pinpoint vibrating spots which happened to lay, more specifically, flush against the shrunken man’s crotch.   
For Dean, the vibrations were able to work their way deeply through his muscles, but for Sam, they caused his entire body to shake uncontrollably on their lowest setting. So having his dick pressed down against this powerful force had Sam achingly hard in an instant. Struggling and squirming to the best of his abilities, the tiny hunter tried his hardest to get away from the vibrations, biting his lip as he tried to keep control over his raging hard-on and to not come in his pants.   
It ended up being Dean who doomed Sam’s resistance, and the older brother ground his ass down on Sam at the exact moment a rolling ball passed over the younger Winchester, with the vibrations pushing him over the edge so that he came hard in long, drawn out pulses as the vibrations and rollers continued non-stop.   
Crying out from oversensitivity as his dick continued to be in direct contact to the powerful motors, Sam could only hope that Dean wouldn’t stay on the chair all night so that the miniature man would have a chance to slip away, but once another low rumbling noise joined the others buzzing around Sam, he knew it was a lost cause as his colossal brother snored, having been lulled to sleep by the massage chair.


	5. Soulless Shenanigans

Soulless Sam was a dick. Given, he was a shrunken dick due to some freaky witch’s curse he got whammied by, but still a dick. And, it hadn’t even gotten easier to hang around the guy; it was like all of his creepy soulless weirdness got compressed and multiplied in that newly tiny body of his, cause who the Hell in their right mind wouldn’t freak the Hell out at being turned into a Goddamn Ken doll? But, no, Robo-Sam just took the entire thing in stride with that whacked nonchalant attitude of his!   
Dean just didn’t know how much more of this he could take. One night, Dean woke up to the unnerving sight of the little guy doing pushup after pushup after pushup while staring straight at Dean from his spot on the nightstand with this weird-ass gleam in his miniscule eyes. The elder Winchester still got chills just thinking about it. When Dean told Sam to knock it the Hell off, that dick just ignored him and kept at it, not taking his eyes of Dean the whole time. Dean chose to sleep in the tub that night, making sure to lock the door and place towels against the door’s crack so that the shrunken psychopath couldn’t slink inside, too.   
He bought the mini-moose a freakin’ hamster wheel, just so that the dude could do his nightly exercises and Dean wouldn’t have to worry about Sam creeping on him. This way, the constant squeaking sound of the wheel turning, albeit annoying, reassured Dean of his brother’s whereabouts and allowed him to finally get some much needed shut-eye.   
For a couple of nights, everything was fine; Sam’d run tirelessly on his wheel and Dean would be lulled to sleep by its creaks. Unfortunately, Dean is a Winchester, and their good luck is known to run out relatively quick.   
Dean’s dream was taking a turn for the better, consisting of some interesting combinations of pie and whipped cream and frisky women with bright blue eyes wearing trench coats, when he was drowsily pulled from his pleasurable fantasy. Blinking tiredly, Dean wondered what had awoken him just when things were starting to get interesting in dreamland. Nothing in the dim room looked obviously out of place from what he could tell, so the Winchester let out an agitated huff before settling back down, aiming to get some more shut eye. It was then, in the room’s serene stillness, that Dean figured out what had changed: the room was silent. That damn wheel wasn’t squeaking.   
Just as the hunter went to get out of bed and see what the frick Sam was up to now, a wave of pleasure washed over him, drawing a throaty groan from the man as his attention was refocused upon his steadily growing erection. While Dean would normal seize this opportunity, there was no way in Hell that he was gonna do anything with that soulless asshole skulking around the place.   
Having decided to ignore his aching member, Dean swung the blanket off of his legs, preparing to go hunt down Sam before he could get into trouble. Imagine the hunter’s surprise when he looked down and beheld the sight of his shrunken, soul bereft brother straddling his throbbing dick. Sam’s small arms encircled the cock as best he could, determinedly rubbing his big brother with unwaveringly resolution.   
“ _S-Sam_ !?! What the  _fucking_ fuck are you doing?!” Dean’s stuttered exclamation tumbled from his mouth, which gaped in pure incredulity. “Get off of me!” He reached forward to forcefully intervene in whatever the freaking Hell this was, but yanked his hand back the moment it touched warm, bare skin and his brain caught up with what he was seeing. “Dude, you’re naked! Fuck, Sam, we talked about this! Morals, you soulless sonuvabitch- this is  _wrong_ ! You can’t just- We’re brothers-” Palms hovering above the little guy, who has still going at it with his  _big brother’s dick_ that was taller than the soulless prick himself, Dean didn’t want to grab the guy cause, number one, the older Winchester didn’t want to accidently hurt his brother, soulless or not, and, number two, the bite-sized fella was  _naked_ , and there were some lines that Dean hesitated to cross, even if Sam didn’t seem to have any disputes in doing so.   
But an indifferent shrug was the only reply that the munchkin gave, and Dean had to bite his fist to hold back a throaty moan as Sam sped up his pace, adding little swirls of his hips as he grinded against the hot member he was pressing against. Sam didn’t even appear to care that Dean had woken up and found him- if anything, he had only begun to try harder to get Dean off than when the man had been sleeping.   
Time ticked by as Dean was caught in an agonizing dilemma, but finally his dick triumphed over his mind, and with a throaty growl, he took both his dick and Sam in hand, and began to jerk himself off to finish what Sam had started. That tiny had been driving him nuts, drawing this out with those lacking touches, regardless of Sam giving Dean his all. Even as Dean gripped the shrunken figure tight against him, his soulless brother continued to swivel his minute hips, seeking his own release.   
Wantonly pumping the hot member, it was the feeling of Sam’s own pace faltering as the pocket-sized hunter came pressed to Dean’s dick that sent Dean rocketing into his own orgasm. Waves of pleasure washed over Dean as he came, cock covering both himself and Sam in a white, sticky mess. Having had just enough sense of mind to release his little brother so as to not risk crushing him, Dean allowed his head to fall back against the pillow as he recovered.   
At the feeling of tiny feet walking across his body, Dean looked down at that soulless bastard with his brother’s face, cocking an eyebrow as the tiny man used a corner of the abandoned sheets to wipe off a majority of Dean’s come. Once finished, he met the regular-sized Winchester gaze with an easy smirk, looking completely satisfied with his shrunken self.   
“Night, Dean,” that short sonuvabitch said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened- as if this were any other night- as if he and Dean hadn’t just had some masturbation-sex-thing no more than a few minutes ago, and then climbed off the bed.   
Minutes later, Dean was still lying there in bed, a hundred and ten percent awake, as the sound of Sam running on the hamster wheel resumed.


	6. Shrunk Soulless Sam Drabble

Picture Robo-Sam’s clothes not shrinking down with him, but, Hell, he doesn’t care- modesty got ditched alongside his soul back in the Cage, so he just walks around everywhere completely naked, much to Dean’s chagrin. Or, how about he takes the time to snoop around in Dean’s bag and finds some very … personal possessions of his big brother’s, with his only excuse being that it’s not like he can use the laptop to research a hunt at this size, so he had to do something to keep busy.   
Mini soulless Sam would be an utter terror. Poor Dean would be torn between protecting the bastard with his brother’s face and giving the troublesome tiny the punishment he cleeeearly deserves.   
He’d do everything from pouring one of those little packets of salt into Dean’s coffee at breakfast to tying Dean’s laces together under the table. And since Dean has to sleep but he doesn’t? He has NO fear about messing with Dean’s body while he’s sleeping.   
But if Sam had gotten shrunk following the events of Shrinkynatural’s fics with soulless Sam as the big tormenting either a shrunken Dean or Cas, it’d be a totally different game. Cas and Dean wouldn’t trust the miniature dude AT ALL, and they’d be on the lookout for whatever he’d get up to. They’d most definitely give Sam a taste of his own medicine after everything he’s put the two of them through.   
Yet, then again, soulless Sam might enjoy half the stuff that Dean and Cas did to him through revenge, and doesn’t that just ruin the point?


	7. Tiny Dean in Sam's Bath

This is, by far, the worst position that Dean’s gotten himself into since he’s gotten shrunken down. Treading the turbulent water to the best of his abilities, the tiny Winchester, measuring no more than an inch and a half tall, struggles to keep his head above water. Sam, the freakin’ giant obliviously relaxing in the bath, was completely unaware of Dean’s strife. It was the slight motions of his huge-ass little brother shifting into a more comfortable position that generated the current that threatened to steal Dean under the surface.   
Unfortunately, it pretty much took Sam’s undivided attention in a normal scenario for him to be able to discern his shrunken brother’s miniscule voice, so there was little to no hope of Dean being able to get Sam’s attention by simply shouting at his colossal, naked form. Seeing no other way, while remaining absolutely  _not_ happy with it anyways, Dean swam closer to his brother, eventually climbing up on top of the warm, massive floating limb that was palm-up. Sam barely even twitched as Dean clambered across the damp skin, not even consciously registering his brother even as the other stood on him.   
Dean hadn’t gotten far before everything went downhill fast. Without warning, Sam suddenly began to move, his hands gently curling in on themselves so that Dean became trapped in the space between those stretching fingers and wide palm, thankfully unharmed in his fleshy prison. Nausea hit the tiny hunter like a cannon ball as the sensation of flying enveloped him when Sam lifted his hands as he turned around in the tub on his knees, moving so that his chest was supported by the side of the Jacuzzi sized tub, because apparently the Men of Letters did not skimp on accommodations for personal hygiene.   
Light flooded back into Dean’s field of vision as Sam’s hand opened. There was only just enough time for Dean to look up, tracking Sam’s other hand, to watch it push down on a huge pump directly above him before the shrunken Winchester was completely buried under thick, gel-like soap that smelled distinctly like lavender. Damn Sam and his girly cleaning products! This is even worse than the water, being so dense that Dean can barely move at all through it, let alone fight his way to the surface, and, sonuvabitch, Dean’s gonna die from his baby brother taking a freaking bath, and damnit all to Hell.   
He was vaguely aware of the world shifting outside his soapy prison, but he can’t even open his eyes to see what’s happening because pure, concentrated soap making direct contact with his eyes? No thank you.   
Next thing Dean knows, he’s being scooped up by two giant fingers from his ginormous little brother’s other hand, and is finally able to rise to the top of the soap that got taken with him, gasping for breath and just so thankful to still be alive until those two fingers move to Sam’s enormous ass, where they smear both the soap and Dean over the overgrown hunter’s hole.   
Dean’s spluttering and struggling away from those fingers and shouting for Sam to goddamn pay attention and get him out of here but his brother can’t hear him over the giant’s own moans, and the miniature man is helpless against the powerful fingers that push and pull his small form with ease as they circle but don’t enter Sam’s entrance.   
Then they’re abruptly gone, and Dean hopes against hope that he’s been noticed, up to the point that Sam’s hand returns to apply the rest of the soap to the hole. Steadily, the pressure pushing Dean against Sam’s eager ass hole increases as both of their anticipation of what is to come builds and builds, till Sam is swiftly pushing in two fingers, and Dean, into himself in one fluid motion.   
Dean is enveloped in darkness, and a rumbling hissing groan shakes the entire being around the shrunken Winchester as Sam feels the pleasure of being filled and the sting of the soap, completely drowning out Dean’s screams.   
But it doesn’t just stop there, oh no. Those battering ram fingers of Sam’s keep pushing and probing Dean into the fleshy walls, and any bids for freedom of their touch only seem to excite Sam more so that he’s practically seeking Dean out with every thrust of his own hands, while remaining completely oblivious to what- or who- is making this time feel so much better, so much more intense than its predecessors. When Sam finally manages to push Dean up against his prostate, a keen of pleasure ripples through the giant’s form. Dean has gone limp, having completely exhausted himself from trying to stay afloat earlier in the tub and then uselessly resist the whims of Sam’s masturbation-driven hand as it sought out release.   
The bath began to slosh as Sam picks up the pace, having found his sweet spot, and, oh God, this is the freaking best that he’s felt in a long time, and Sam knows that he just needs a little more to push him over the edge. It is in that moment, where Sam lingers on the edge of orgasm, that his knees slip out from underneath him in the bath.   
Sam lets out a distinctly un-manly sounding yelp as he tumbles, pulling his fingers out of himself. Harrumphing in agitation, the youngest Winchester acknowledges the fact that this could all go so much smoother if he’d just continue this in his own bedroom. So, the hunter stood up, toweled off his body as the bath drained, and then walked away to transfer the action over to a more convenient location, with the poor tiny Dean, drained and battered, still stuck up his ass.


	8. The Devil On My Shoulder

There were differences between being here on Earth with his brother and Bobby than being in the Cage, just like Dean had said. But pain wasn’t the only thing to que Sam in on that. Lucifer was different, too. For some God forsaken reason, Satan had, after giving up on convincing Sam that he was still in Hell, decided to become the younger Winchester’s own personal, miniature Devil on his shoulder, literally. The damned hallucination spent all hours lounging atop of Sam, pulling sharply on the long strands of hair the swayed around him, no more than a handful of inches tall. Now, of course Lucifer would never stop there; he kept up an active commentary on anything and everything that Sam came across or did. Whether it was reading the morning news, talking to Dean, going on a hunt, or using the restroom.   
It could be worse, Sam thought to himself. He could’ve become a complete nutcase in the absence of the wall, or still be soulless, or even still stuck in the Cage. All things considered, dealing with a couple of hallucinations was a small price to pay for all that he’d done, even if said hallucination was a pesky, horned twit, cause, yeah, evidently Hallucifer would accept nothing less than the entire getup of red leathery wings, horns, and spiked tail to go with his miniaturized stature.   
Unfortunately, it turns out that Sam was right: It could be  _so_ much worse than it already was, and after about two weeks of the Devil being relatively manageable, things took an unexpected twist for the worse one night when the three hunters were all settled around Bobby’s dining room table for dinner.   
Bobby really had gone all out tonight, having worked for hours to have a nice, normal family dinner for them all, so it was completely unavoidable for something to go wrong. The older hunter’s small table was cluttered with hearty dishes of mashed potatoes, chili, and ribs slathered in BBQ sauce. Despite Sam’s usual deference to healthy foods, he had to agree with his starry-eyed, drooling brother; this all looked delicious. Sam smiled appreciatively when Bobby loaded his plate with considerable servings of all the foods, and Dean passed them each a chilled beer.   
Just as Sam was about to take his first bite, his attention was immediately drawn to the tiny Satan who was currently strolling across the dinner table, examining each dish while exuding a casual air of indifference, buck-ass naked. Sam froze with his mouth open, fork hovering in the air, as the miniature blonde man turned and gave the hunter a devilish smirk, an over-the-top wink thrown in for kicks.   
“Sam? You doing okay, boy?” Gaze jerking over to the concerned fatherly figure, the youngest Winchester gave Bobby a jerky nod, clearing his throat with an apologetic smile before shoving the bite of food into his mouth.   
Which, as it happens, he almost choked on a second later when he glanced back at his pocket-sized hallucination. Even from across the table, Sam could still detect the dark glint in those miniscule blue eyes as Lucifer deliberately held Sam’s gaze while skimming the top of the mash potatoes with a single, diminutive finger before bringing it up to his lips and licking off the white substance seductively with his snake-like tongue.   
The young man hurried to take a swig of his beer, all too aware of the worried looks that Dean and Bobby were shooting at him. He’s struggling to keep his composure together at the dinner table, but only ends up failing miserably, cause, fuck, Lucifer had just penetrated himself with his  _own tail_ ?!?!?!   
Now Sam really is choking, his drink having gone down the wrong pipe as he stared, enraptured at the sight the tiny shrunken archangel, the damned Morning Star himself was fucking himself on his own bright red, forked tail. Coughing harshly, the hunter regained his breath before quickly excusing himself from the dinner table. Dean made as if to follow him, but the elder Winchester stilled after a glance from Bobby.   
Rushing upstairs and into the bathroom, Sam firmly closed and locked the door behind him. His breaths were rapid and heavy, and his dick twitched traitorously when the image of Lucifer tantalizingly thrusting his tail in and out of his ass flashed back through his mind.   
“Liked that, didja, Sammy-boy?” Small puffs of hot breath wisped against the back of Sam’s ear, and he didn’t have to check to know that the Devil had reappeared on his shoulder. Grinding his teeth, the hunter clenched his hands in fists and shut his eyes, silently willing Hallucifer to disappear. “Awww, don’t be like that, buddy. I know that you enjoyed the teaser trailer, so why not stick around and enjoy the actual show?”   
Eyes snapping open, Sam looked down at the tiny man balancing easily upon his broad shoulder. Lucifer was still naked as the day he was born- created? -and Sam felt heat rushing through his body and pooling in his cock. Damnit. A single, shaky nod from the tall man had the miniature Satan grinning triumphantly. The youngest Winchester would say that he’s probably gonna go to Hell for this- getting it on with the Devil, even if it’s all in his head- but, eh, been there, done that.


	9. Fairy Castiel Drabble

While sitting there, bored to tears in class all day, I daydreamed about tiny fairy Castiel- who is pretty much one of the absolute best things ever.

Dean would be (unintentionally) rampaging through a forest, whether because he’s hunting down the monster of the week or he just decided to explore one surrounding a motel/Bobby’s/the Bunked, unknowingly growing ever closer to the miniature pixie who’s fervently struggling in vain to free his trapped wing as the humongous figure looms menacingly overhead. Dean raises his foot, ready to take the final, fatal step that would surely crush Cas where he stood, shaking in his tiny trench coat.  
In a panic driven burst of energy, Cas’s magic would involuntarily shoot out at Dean in a myriad ray of colors, striking the hunter square in the chest.  
Still cowering from the harrowing fright he just endured, it’d take Castiel a minute to regain his composure and question where the human had disappeared to- one moment, the man had been a heartbeat away from stepping on the fairy, and the net he had just, well, vanished. His confusion would be quickly put to rest when tiny, vehement curses carried through the grass in front of him, closuring the distance between them with every second. When a frustrated, bewildered, and shrunken hunter emerges from the tall, green blades of grass, looking lost, Cas is instantly and completely horrified; he had panicked when he thought he was going to be smooshed like some insect- the fairy hadn’t meant to shrink the man!  
Meanwhile, as Cas is internally panicking, Dean is struggling between the valid emotions of freaking the Hell out and having his breath taken away by how absolutely hot the scantily clad fairy before him is. The hunter is trying to be angry at the Fae, because he can think of no other way he’d have just suddenly become bite-sized besides the woodland creature’s magic, but the tiny person is just so _damn_ attractive with that stubble and hair and those brilliant blue eyes which make Dean think of the deep, _deep_ sea and star filled night skies, that the miniature Winchester can’t help but shrug off his agitation in favor of helping Cas free his luminescent, shimmering pinned wing.  
Castiel would be cautious and so very sorry towards the man, all the while amazed at how handsome this human was. Perhaps all humans are this beautiful? No, this one- this Dean Winchester, must be a gem among his kind. There is no way that he could be anything but.  
They’d have to trek through the forest back to the fairy colony, where all the other Fae would be dangerously furious at bringing a human being- a _hunter_ into their sanctuary, and thrown Dean in the prison.  
Later that night, Cas would sneak Dean out of the camp, risking his very wings to save a person he barely knew, yet still felt a … profound bond with. When Cas had heard that the human was to be executed at dawn, he had known that he had to act, it was, after all, the fairy’s fault that Dean was in this position in the first place. Imagine him having to fly Dean out of camp to escape when the guards discovered them, consequently discovering the tiny man’s crippling fear of heights at the same time.


	10. Winchester Prank War w/Poor Cas

Initially, when Cas had become suddenly and inexplicable challenged in the height department, things had gone as one would expect; the brothers becoming very conscious and careful of their tiny angel, so as to never hurt the little guy or put him in any awkward situations. But as time slipped away, so did the brother’s vigilance- especially once they found out that with his sudden diminished size, Cas had also become practical invulnerable.   
Dean swears that this all started because of an accident. It may or may not have been his shift for watching the incredible shrinking man, and he may or may not have accidently left Cas on Sam’s dresser while the younger brother was in the shower. So, okay, yeah, the hunter wandered off, leaving the miniature dude alone, but he was sure that Sam would see the little guy there on his nightstand. It definitely was somewhat not Dean’s fault that Sam entered his room, closed the door, and immediately dropped his towel; revealing every last bit of his overgrown physique to poor Castiel, who was so surprised by the sudden turn of events that he couldn’t even bring himself to call out to Sam.   
And then Sam had just leisurely walked around his room, all natural, picking out his clothes and shit for about ten minutes before his eyes just happened to fall upon the miniature man frozen on his nightstand, the look of a deer caught in the headlights painted across Cas’s tiny stubbly face. After some undignified squeals and scrambles for the long-ago dropped towel, followed by a short interrogation from the beet-red Winchester, Sam was speedily slipping into his clothes, struggling to keep everything covered at the same time, and storming of to find his brother, absolutely fuming.   
Now, normally, the youngest Winchester isn’t the type for pitiful things like revenge, especially when it effects a third party in the process, but there’s no way in Hell that Sam’s gonna let Dean get away with this one.   
He waited a couple of days so that Dean would mostly forget about the whole incident before the hunter made his move. Snatching up their shrunken friend, to whom Sam threw an apologetic glance, the younger brother moved stealthily through the bunker and into his sleeping brother’s room. Dean, of course, had his mouth wipe open as he snored. Creeping over to the unconscious man’s bedside, Sam took the squirming celestial being in his hand and lowered him headfirst into Dean’s mouth, which immediately latched onto the struggling figure and began to suck on it, just as the younger Winchester knew would happen- Dean had always had a strange oral fixation, even in his sleep. Feeling satisfyingly avenged, Sam returned to his own room to get some more sleep.   
For the rest of the night, Cas was sucked on, licked and rolled by his giant, sleeping friend’s persistent tongue. Despite his best attempts, the tiny angel could not free himself from the Winchester’s mouth, as Dean’s lips were sealed tightly around his miniature form. Hours later when Dean finally began to show signs of stirring, Cas increased his efforts to get the hunter’s attention, wriggling around in the man’s hot, wet mouth.   
At first Dean was dazedly confused as to what he was sucking on. It had a strange taste: a mixture of skin and cloth. When he registered that the object was moving, he jerked upright, instantly awake. In his startled action, Dean almost swallowed the figure, but managed to gag around the large object and spit it out. With wide eyes he looked down at the soaking wet, disgruntled man in his hands, stammering out apologies and swears for vengeance as Cas tried his best to wipe off the saliva clinging to his skin.   
Things started to get more intense after that.   
Dean dropped Cas in Sam’s favorite lotion bottle, cause, yeah, Sam liked to moisturize or something ridiculously chick-like or the likes. So when Sam went to use the flower scented lotion next, Cas got rubbed all over the tall Winchester’s body along with the slippery substance.   
Sam slipped some laxatives in Dean’s smoothie and trapped Cas in the bathroom, so that it wasn’t until the elder hunter was already using the restroom that he noticed the small man. But, it wasn’t like he could let the little blue eyed guy out as all the foot he’d ever eaten uncontrollably evacuated the hunter’s system. It ended up being a very, very uncomfortable experience, for both of them.   
Dean tied Cas to the strings of Sam’s shorts right before his brother went for his morning run and exercise routine, and it wasn’t until two hours later that the angel was discovered, dazed from being bounced against Sam’s crotch so many times and coated in a layer of the sweat that had soaked through the thin fabric of Sam’s shorts and onto Castiel.   
Sam proceeded to purposefully spill some of his hot herbal tea on Dean’s crotch, making the other scramble to tear off his pants and grab the hand towel that Sam passed him, immediately rubbing it against his sodden underwear in an effort to ward off any burns. Really, he should have expected Cas to be attached to the cloth which he was had so eagerly pressed against his thinly covered dick.


	11. Pliable Cas Stuck to Dean's Ass

The first time it happened, Dean didn’t even mean to sit on Cas, he just hadn’t been paying attention, that’s all. It wasn’t until much later, once Dean had already stood up and carried on with his business, that he absent-mindedly reached back and scratched at the seat of his jeans, only to feel something other than the course fabric the Winchester had been expecting. Peeling off whatever had been stuck to his pants and holding it up to get a good look at it, it was a bit of an understatement to say that Dean was surprised to find Cas, flat as a pancake in his palm. Only after the initial panic had worn off when the hunter noticed that the tiny angel was still alive and slowly reflating into his original shape did Dean breathe a sigh of relief and send the still slightly out-of-shape tiny on his way, holding back his laughter at the pure ridiculousness of what had just happened.  
The Winchester had a plan by the next morning. He got the shrunken angel up early in the morning to ‘help’ him make breakfast. Cas eagerly agreed, of course, wanting to help in any way that he could now that his size and powers were so diminished. Placing the tiny man on the counter, Dean busied himself with gathering together what he needed to cook the meal. After a couple of minutes, he acted as if he had forgotten about the small angel, and while going get a bowl out of a bowl on the top shelf, he slid on top of the counter, right over the top of where Castiel stood, squishing the tiny man.  
Dean placed even more weight upon the angel by rolling his hips back, squashing the small being even further. When the man hopped off the counter, he glanced back at the counter inconspicuously and almost blew his cover immediately at the hilarious sight of Cas stuck to the counter, thin as a sheet of paper. Fortunately, the Winchester managed to regain his composure and carry on with breakfast, making sure to ‘accidently’ place heavy objects atop of Cas just when the angel was about to regain his shape.  
After finishing with all the cooking and cleaning, Dean finally allowed the shrunken celestial being to finish reflating, proceeding to question where the little guy had wandered off to while he was cooking, the poster child of innocence.  
When the tiny angel passed out on Dean’s pillow that evening, looking vulnerable to most anything, the eldest Winchester felt a mischievous smirk form upon his face. Reaching out, the hunter slowly, oh so slowly grabbed and lifted the pillow so that it was near the edge of the bed, rather than the center. Dean froze when Castiel stirred, mumbling something incoherent before slipping back into a deeper sleep. After a moment, Dean hooked his fingers under his jeans and underwear, stealthily sliding them down to his knees before turning around so that his ass was facing Cas.  
Then Dean heavily sat backwards, landing with his bare ass on top of his shrunken angel of the lord. A light laugh escaped him as he felt Cas flatten beneath his freckled butt, and knew that the miniature man had awoken from the stifled noises coming beneath him as Castiel tried to alert Dean to his strife, but there were no movements, as Cas was completely stuck to the hunter’s ass.  
Acting as if he couldn’t hear the angel and was unaware of his friend’s plight, Dean stood, quickly moving to pull his tight pants and underwear back up and over Castiel so that the little guy was securely trapped against Dean’s tight behind until the Winchester chose to let him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My best guestimation as far as our squishable angel’s thoughts would be something along the lines of “Oh my Father! Oh my Father! Oh my Father! I am stuck to the ass of the man whom I gripped tight and raised from Perdition! Dean will be not be happy if he finds me here- with his constant insistences of personal space- I must find a way to disengage my body from his without him taking notice of my predicament, and most definitely sooner, rather than later.”  
> And, ooohhh, the way that it would feel to be molded around that fine ass like putty? Well, let me tell you, with each step of Dean Winchester’s bowlegged legs, those muscles would flex, sending you rippling from how tightly you’re pinned to his seemyling skyscraper sized body with those rough, tight denim jeans scrapping against your back the entire time, keep you stuck fast. If Dean sat down while you were stuck fast to him, you’d most definitely feel the immense pressure of his weight, but even though your body was squeezed flat, you’d find that it wouldn’t hurt at all; it actually sent thrills of excitement and pleasure through your tiny, smooshed body to feel Dean’s weight like this, to endure the unswayable power the giant hunter wielded over your miniature form. Yes, you knew that you needed to get free or at least noticed, but it wasn’t going to hurt anybody of you didn’t make a fuss until he got back up again.


	12. Indestructable Cas

While having the literally downsized Castiel posses indestructibility was originally seen as a blessing, the Winchester brothers soon discovered that it was also somewhat of a curse, as Castiel was quick to let it go to his head and immediately dismiss any height related issues. Particularly those regarding Cas taking any caution around the comparable giants he was now surrounded by.  
Both of the hunters had tried to make the little guy’s life easier by rides on shoulders and hands, or even in pockets or on top of heads, if Cas’d prefer, but the angel’s determination to be independent had not diminished along with his height. But who were the Winchester to try and oppose someone struggling to act as if everything was normal when things were most definitely out of their depth when the men often did the same thing themselves?  
That doesn’t mean that they have to agree with Cas’s choice though, and they make a pact to play along with their tiny angel’s decision, with a catch: if the pocket-sized man wanted to pretend that he was still able to do everything he could at normal height, then the Winchesters would resolutely not keep an eye out for their shrunken companion- Cas would have to watch out for himself if he wouldn’t acknowledge that he just shouldn’t be doing some things at his height, regardless of his indestructibility.  
It wasn’t long until the first incident occurred; Dean had been casually strolling down the Bunker’s halls, when he’d notice a small figure walking in the middle of the wide floor. With an air of nonchalance, the eldest brother would slightly adjust his path, so that after a few more steps his foot landed directly on the angel, pinning him against the cold, hard flooring. The blond man’s act of ignorance to Castiel’s plight should’ve won him an Oscar or something as he inconspicuously stalled from moving off of the bite-sized figure by bending down to retie the shoelace of his boot which had come undone.  
After having drawn it out about as long as he could- he just  _couldn’t_ seem to get that knot right, for some reason- and stifling occasional bouts of laughter as the nearly unnoticeable indignant squeaks and struggles coming from beneath his heel, Dean stood back up and resumed wandering down the hallway, pretending to never have noticed his tiny friend at all.  
To be fair, it  _was_ Sam’s turn for getting to watch the television- he’d made a chart so that they could all watch their favorite shows without stepping on one another’s toes. Dean had his soaps and Sam, well, Sam had always had a thing for History Channel and Myth Busters- so when he walked into the room and saw a miniature man sitting on the couch, he was within all of his rights to just walk up and plop down right on top of Castiel. Honestly, the angel should know better to than to sit on the couch at his size; anyone could just walk up and not notice him, and then who knows how long the little guy could be trapped for, completely unnoticed? It was better for Sam to just help teach him this lesson sooner rather than later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our guys are heroes, but they’re also all a bunch of goofballs who love to screw around with each other. It wouldn’t take much incentive at all for them to mess with Cas and ‘teach’ the old as time celestial being some lessons that he somehow missed out on during his infathomably long life of his ;P  
> I also like to think that our tiny shrunken angel of the lord wouldn’t take their jabs lying down -same goes for this fic as well as the prank one- and that he’d find his own ways to get back at their ridiculous antics. Picture mini Cas hiding the remote control just when the brother’s decide to sit down and relax with some Netflix, or putting a tack in Dean’s shoe, or knotting Sam’s hair in the completely impossible to undo way that only his miniscule hands could accomplish. What if, after some particularly insulting treatment at the hands of the brothers, Castiel sets his mind upon screwing up the wiring for the bunker’s electricity, or- Heaven forbid- the Impala.


	13. First person POV

You were just trying to get a bit of the ice cream that Cas had been hoarding; rocky road was your absolute favorite, and the man had a simply ginormous bowl filled with the delicious frozen treat. Being as small as you were, you only wanted the tiniest bit- it’s not like the trench coat clad giant would even notice if you skimmed a couple handfuls of the creamy goodness. So, climbing atop his lengthy arm, you marched down its length, complete determined to get a taste, only to trip over the coarse cloth beneath your miniature feet. Arms pin wheeling, body reeling, you wobbled precariously on the edge of Cas’s arm as you desperately tried to regain your balance, but, alas, the fates were not in your favor.   
A small squeak echoed through the air as you plunged head first into the pool-sized bowl, sinking deep into the half-way melted ice cream. Paddling blindly, you working your way to the thick, chilly confectionary’s surface, gasping for breath. Harsh shivers instantly began to wrack your shrunken frame as the frozen treat stole what little body heat your reduced form managed to generate, and you could barely force your shocked body to weakly paddle to stay afloat.   
You didn’t know whether to be completely relieved or terrified as a humongous spoon swept down from the sky and scooped up you and the surrounding dessert in one swift motion. You clung to the spoon, afraid that you might fall off this heart-wrenching ride up as sticky droplets of melting rocky road dripped from your shaking form. When the metal object’s motion came to a sudden halt, you looked up and were instantly comforted by the large blue eyes looking down upon you- Cas had noticed your fall, you weren’t about to take an unpleasant and potentially fatal trip into the man’s mouth.   
Yet, then again, maybe you spoke too soon.   
Warm, wet, and strong, Castiel’s tongue slid over your entire body in one motion, coating you in a layer of hot saliva as some of the ice cream was licked off of your tiny form. You wriggled and spluttered, seeking escape from the giant muscle intent on cleaning every last bit of you. It wasn’t long though until your resistance melted away at the intense heat of the massive man’s tongue which was quick to banish your last remaining chills, along with the sinful pleasure you had begun to feel from Cas’s ministrations.   
A light flush spread across your miniature cheeks, leaving you panting as the last of the sticky substance is licked away, but the motions fail to cease. An embarrassingly high keen escapes you as the colossal man focuses on your crotch with tight circling swishes, causing waves of lust and desire wrack your shrunken frame.   
You might not be sure what had brought all of this on, but heaven forbid you be the one to stop Cas from continuing whatever hot mess this was.


	14. Massage Chair Part 2

Never let it be said that Sam Winchester was anything but determined, and horribly unlucky. There was no way for the shrunken hunter to have any realistic idea of how much time had passed, but he did know that it took at least half an hour for him to contort, squirm, and wriggle his tiny body out from beneath Dean’s ass to the underside of his big brother’s crotch, all the while being subjected to the constant brutality that was the massage chair’s sensuous rolling and overwhelming vibrations. Though it was a relief to no longer be directly crushed by the giant’s butt, Sam still had the heavy weight of Dean’s clothed cock and balls resting upon his back; keeping him from a quick escape, but the miniature man knew that freedom would soon be his so long as nothing unexpected happened.  
But it was Sam’s own struggles for liberty that, with the aid of the chair’s mechanisms, were just enough pull Dean from the depths of sleep with the pulsating pleasure he provided with every movement. Sleepy murmurs left the waking man as Dean felt the effects of what he presumed to solely be the intense shaking and rubbing of what was quickly becoming his new second favorite piece of machinery, right behind his Baby. Drowsily, the eldest Winchester reached down between his legs, lazily cupping his groin, and began to palm his steadily growing erection, taking advantage of the chair the whole while by slowly grinding down against it.  
When Dean’s hand had moved around his ginormous dick, Sam had thought that he might have finally caught a break when the fingers did nothing more than nudge him back against his brother’s sack. That is, until the aroused man began to grind down against the chair, consequently causing Sam’s small form to be firmly wedged up between Dean’s hot balls, getting stuck as the fabric bunched around his shrunken body  
Immediately, the tiny hunter struggled to escape this new confinement, pushing and floundering against the mountainous man’s genitals. Turns out that Sam’s not done making bad choices with his newly miniaturized body, because Dean, in response to the added stimulus that his little brother was unknowingly providing, was now fully awake and aching for sexual gratification.  
Snapping his hips upward, Dean shimmied his pants and freed his throbbing dick from his boxer-briefs, eagerly spitting on his palm before moving to grip his erection, thrusting his ass back down upon the insistently vibrating seat in time with the jerks of his hand.  
The moment that his gigantic brother had lifted his weight from Sam’s shrunken body, the tiny Winchester wasted no time in a mad scramble for freedom, moving as quickly as he could while the surface beneath his miniature legs churned and shifted beneath his every step.  
But when Dean roughly sat back down, Sam was tossed up into the air by the massive force behind the simple motion. When he landed back on the rumbling, rolling leather seat, Sam looked up to see the awe-inspiring sight of his brother’s huge hand tugging at his long, thick penis, the member itself being bigger than Sam himself. Panic overtook the hunter’s struck sensation when Dean’s grinding made the seat slope down drastically, pulling Sam down towards Dean’s now naked groin.  
Turning, Sam tried to run, but gravity was working against the shrunken Winchester, and he slipped and slid down, down, down, until his lower half was pinned under Dean’s bouncing balls and against the chair’s unrelenting vibrations. Fortunately, the mini hunter had managed to flip onto his back so that his breathing was unobstructed, but it also presented him with an up close and personal view of his enormous brother’s churning flesh.  
Compressed between the hot, sweaty sack above him that was repeatedly grinding the small man’s lower half forcefully against the vibrating massage chair, Sam groaned aloud as his puny dick hardened once more. While the shrunken Winchester knew that it was useless, he couldn’t help but continue to struggle to get away from the pleasure that was steadily driving him closer and closer to the edge.  
Above him, it didn’t take his big brother long to reach orgasm, thick stripes of white come spurting from his throbbing dick. Dean slumped in the chair, pulling his hand away to turn off the vibrations that were suddenly too much for his post-orgasmic state. A light, pleased sigh carried through the air as the older hunter leaned his head back, easily slipping back into the depths of sleep.  
Meanwhile, Sam was still pinned, except thanks to his jerk of a brother’s careless slouching, Dean’s sack was now covering his small chest and arms as well. And, as if things weren’t bad enough, his big brother’s soft cock was now limply hanging right above what little of Sam was still uncovered.  
It was with dreading eyes that the tiny watched as the come that had coated Dean’s dick when the brother came now steadily dripped downwards with the force of gravity, drawing ever closer to Sam’s face. Then, in a steady drip that no matter which way the tiny turned his head to try and escape it, Dean’s come fell down onto Sam’s face, leaving him spluttering around the salty substance. Sam shut his eyes, hoping against hope that the slumbering giant above him would soon find a reason to wake up and leave the room, allowing his shrunken brother to slink away and forget about this entire experience, clean up, sleep for an hour, never feel any vibrations again or set his eyes on this damn massage chair ever again, and then, only once Sam had had enough time to physically and mentally recollect himself, he’d go find Dean again so that they could fix this whole size problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Sam being stuck in that sticky position. Yes, once all of that sticky, tacky come finishes drying, our unfortunate little Winchester will be stuck fast to his big brother’s sack, but it doesn’t stop there. Once Dean finally wakes up, he’ll just throw on a pair of underwear, choosing to just do a quick clean up of the chair and put off his own shower, cause he can be a little lazy if he wants to be every once in a while- it’s not like Sam’s around to call him out on smelling like sex.  
> Problem is, though, that dried come is an extremely uncomfortable thing- it’s rough and flaky and, above all, itchy like a sonuvabitch.  
> So for Dean, he spends the next couple of hours going about his business, every once in a while scratching at the irritating come dried on his balls. But for Sam, he’s caught between trying to free himself from his brother’s giant genitals and being harshly scraped along the hairy sack by Dean’s unrelenting fingers, which only respond even more determinedly with Sam’s every struggle to escape.


	15. Afraid- Scared Tiny Sam & Comforting Big Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So one thing that I’ve noticed about the G/t community for SPN, is that, more often than not, our favorite guys always take the sudden size change in stride- usually banding together to cause some mischief or return the other’s height. But, don’t ya’ll think it’s just as plausible that the tiny hunter couldn’t handle the world suddenly becoming so incomprehensively huge, or the one left normal sized just completely losing his cool at the prospect of having their companion no bigger than their own hand? Even weathered hunters like Team Free Will would be hard-pressed to keep calm and just deal with this, or, at least, that’s how I think it’d happen a bit more realistically.

Think of Sam staring up at the stretching room that lay before and above him, those miniscule hazel eyes filling with the rising horror and fear that threatened to overwhelm the youngest Winchester. All that the hunter had been doing was skimming over some ancient texts, mumbling the words aloud to help him translate the ancient text’s language, when he was suddenly struck by sudden and excruciating pain, falling from his chair and onto the cold, hard Bunker floor. When he came out of his agony-induced haze, it was to a world that towered terrifyingly above him.  
Sam likes to think of himself as a pretty level-headed guy, someone who can think rationally when things go wrong, because they always do, but this, this was just too much, it was just too _big_. He was used to towering above others, and now he couldn’t be any taller than a small doll.   
Looking around at the cavernous main room, the tiny man’s arms unconsciously snaked their way around his chest, hugging himself so as to provide what little comfort and warmth that they could because the world just got a lot bigger and colder.  
It was then that Sam realized that Dean, at any moment now, would return from town to the bunker. Though the youngest Winchester knew that he should be relieved at the prospect of getting help from his big brother, his breathing stuttered at the thought of the colossal giant the blond haired man would surely be now. Dean could crush Sam underfoot before the little guy even got a chance to gain his brother’s attention!  
No, Sam was barely containing a major freak out on his own right now, and trying to dodge giant boots would just completely shatter the last bit of composure and courage that was holding the miniature dude back from collapsing here in the middle of the floor. No, Sam would hide, he’d hide until he was ready to handle Dean on his own terms. Mind made up, the shrunken hunter made his way towards his own bedroom as quickly as he could.  
Just having managed to reach the (thankfully open) door, the little Winchester paused when he heard the Bunker’s entrance slam open and closed, his brother’s loud voice echoing through the halls to Sam’s miniscule ears. Dean was calling out for him, asking where he was, and as no response came, the elder hunter’s voice became a little louder and more worried, increasing in pace as Sam continued to fail to call back. When the voice and footsteps, both with the likeness of booming claps of thunder, began to come closer, Sam’s previous fear returned with vengeance, and the small human retreated into the safety of his own room, quickly moving to hide on the low-lying furniture that had just enough space for the Winchester to squeeze underneath.  
This wasn’t a moment too soon, because a frantic, half-panicked big brother burst into Sam’s room, an enormous flurry of movement and noise as Dean tore through the bedroom, distress increasing as he found no trace of the younger brother. Sam watched his brother’s feet, which were bigger than Sam himself, hurry across the room, their quick movements revealing Dean’s rising anxiousness. Turning on his huge heel, which Sam knew could crush his tiny self with a scary amount of ease, Dean rushed out of the room, continuing his search through the bunker, yelling all the while.  
Hours passed, and Sam listened as Dean scoured the bunker, two, three times for any clue as to what had happened to his younger brother, but it was, of course, to no avail. Sam lay still, among the dust gathering under the dresser, as Dean made pleading, angry calls to anyone and everyone, close to begging for just a hint to as what had happened. Dean had been gone for, what, an hour at most, and somehow Sam had managed to disappear of the face of the earth.  
Then Dean left the Bunker, getting in the Impala and not returning for hours. It was either very late, or very early when Sam’s brother returned. The shrunken man listened as the eldest Winchester shuffled, defeated, into Sam’s room, only to collapse upon the bed, completely exhausted both emotionally and physically.  
Sam had had a lot of time to think, and more than enough time to collect himself. He knew that it was his fault that Dean was borderline hysterical right now, and Sam wanted to march his tiny ass right over to that bed and put all of the other hunter’s fears and doubts to rest, but he was just so … Afraid? Hesitant? Worried? Cowardly?  
Yes, yes, yes, and yes. But as the sound of his brother’s shaky exhale before the giant began to unsteadily hum some Metallica song, Sam knew that he had let this go on for too long. Was he a man, or was he a mouse? No, Sam had kamikazed into the Cage with two vengeful archangels, there was no way he was gonna let a little height difference get the best of him, not after everything they’d been through.  
Hanging on to that determined defiance of all natural instinct, Sam shuffled his way out from underneath the dresser, standing up and brushing the clinging dust from his small clothes as best he could before stalking across the room towards his brother. He stopped a few feet away, because he might be brave but he wasn’t stupid, and, at the top of his lungs, hollered up at the mountain of a big brother lying on his bed.  
It took a few tries, but Sam’s persistent, tiny voice managed to register in Dean’s ears. At first, Dean thought he was dreaming, but then when the nearly inaudible shouts didn’t stop, the Winchester bolted to his feet, frantically looking around the room for where the oh so familiar voice had come from.  
A yelp echoed through the air as the giant was on his feet quicker than Sam’s mind could comprehend, because things so big just didn’t move that quickly. Heart jack-hammering away in his shrunken chest, the small man tried to speak again, but found that his throat had closed up with that crippling fear from before. With wide eyes, Sam watched as Dean hopefully looked around, having heard Sam, only to not see the mini hunter.  
Dean was _sure_ that he heard Sam, and he’d be damned if he just let the first sign of his missing brother pass him by without a fight. Lifting his foot, Dean moved to step forward, only to freeze when a small, terrified scream rang out.  
A scream of horror tore itself from Sam’s throat as the car-sized boot sped through the air, aimed to land right on top of the shrunken man. Raising his arms above his head, Sam crouched down, squeezing his eyes shut as he was sure this was the end, and waited for the pain.  
“Sam?!” Dean’s cacophonous voice rumbled through the air, disbelief coloring his tone as he looked down at the miniaturized little brother curled up in a ball, shaking like a leaf. The realization of what had almost happened, or what Dean had almost done hit the older brother like a train, and he tumbled back against the bed, only to launch himself forward a second later onto his knees, so that he was overshadowing Sam’s tiny form with his own body, hands scooping up the tiny person before he could protest.  
No time was wasted as the elder hunter intensely scanned his small brother for any injuries, but besides a little dust, Sam seemed fine. That is, until Dean realized how harshly the little guy was shaking and breathing. Sam was practically quivering from where he stood cupped in Dean’s giant palms which had picked him up without so much as a warning.  
 _Maybe grabbing him like this wasn’t the best idea,_ Dean thought to himself _, the little guy looks a couple of seconds away from fainting._  
Donning his most relaxed, teasing-big-brother tone to try and to put Sam at ease. “Looks like I’ll have to think up some knew nicknames, huh, bro? Can’t exactly go around calling you Sasquatch, now can I?”  
An incredulous laugh escaped Sam at how normal Dean was acting, despite how freaky this all was. “Whatever you say, Godzilla.” Maybe Sam wasn’t okay right now, but with his big brother, he knew he would be.

Brave Small Dean & Worried Big Sam  
Dean had always been the one with steady hands, the one who had perfected the grace and stealth as only a true hunter could. Sam, on the other hand, had never fully adjusted to his body’s growth spurt from way back in his teens, always having retained an awkward clumsiness with all of his movements like he was still some bumbling, gangly fool. So, when Dean was shrunk down to no more than a few inches tall, Sam was a little concerned, to say the least.  
Not only would the tiny big brother be in danger from all types of things that would normally never even register as the slightest threat to the two well-trained hunters, but also from his obnoxiously klutzy younger brother.  
Sam was completely torn between hovering over the elder hunter to make sure the shrunken man was okay at all times, and keeping as much space between the two so that Sam wouldn’t accidently speak too loud, accidently nudge him too hard, not notice his tiny brother, or, God forbid, step on or drop Dean. That thought of dropping Dean or holding him too tight had tormented Sam’s mind in particular, and he refused to hold or carry the small Winchester in any occasion.  
But, instead of being grateful that Sam was being cautious around him, Dean just seemed to get peeved at Sam’s hesitance to come near him. Having to get around on his own was a pain in the ass at this size, and all the older hunter wanted was a helping hand every once in a while. And, honestly, it kinda bugged the shrunken man that his brother was too unsure of himself to even attempt holding or touching Dean at this size. Sure, the older brother had had his own misgivings at first, for goodness’s sake, Sam towered above him while he was normal-sized, but Dean had gotten over it for the most part after a few days. He still hated the whole heights thing, yet this issue seemed to be bigger than his own problems.  
It was a brilliant and flawless plan, so of course everything went downhill fast. Dean had managed to climb up onto the top of the bookcase in the Bunker’s library, prepared to wait for Sam, who would be forced to help his brother down (climbing up was one thing, but there was no way the little dude would be able to get down on his own). The oldest Winchester was actually kinda pleased with himself, that is, until he finally managed to drag himself to the top of the furniture, completely exhausted, only to come face to face with the giant spider that lived there.  
Dean froze immediately, hand going to his side where his gun would’ve been if this had been a hunt and he was normal sized, but he ended up grasping at nothing. The giant arachnid chittered menacingly as it advanced towards the miniature human, all long black legs and glittering eyes and clicking fangs glistening with a translucent venom. Forcing himself to move, Dean edged away from the advancing predator, shouting for Sam as his eyes glanced this way and that in hopes of some means for escape or help in a fight, but there was nothing. Dean was screwed.  
Suddenly Dean’s foot fell away behind him, having stepped off the edge, and for half a moment the small hunter balanced precariously at the bookshelf’s edge, hanging between death in a few seconds and death in a few minutes at most, before he regained his footing. Looking between the fatal fall behind him and the surely horrific death approaching, Dean made a choice. After one last call for Sam, who was still nowhere to be seen, the shrunken man closed his eyes and fell backwards right as the spider lunged, a terrified scream tearing through the air as he tumbled downwards towards death, when he was suddenly enveloped by darkness.  
Sam had only had a split-second to take in his miniature brothers falling form before he dove forward, arms outstretched, to catch Dean. Hands closing around the tiny hunter in a protective grip, Sam brought the precious cargo close to his chest as he twisted to land on his back. For a minute he lay there, too scared to open his hands and see if Dean had survived; the fall may not have killed him, but the landing might have, or maybe Sam had done it himself, just as the younger brother had feared, crushing the shrunken man with his careless, clumsy, stupid, destructive hands.  
It was only when he registered the noise and movements coming from his cupped hands that Sam jerked upright, opened the small cave he had formed and staring down at his miniature brother with relieved eyes as a shaky exhale left the giant. After Dean recovered, he only looked up at Sam with a smug grin on his miniscule face, causing the younger brother to scrunch his brow questioningly.  
“What do you look so happy about? You almost just died, Dean.”  
“Eh, maybe, but I also got you to finally touch me,” the tiny hunter said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.  
“Ew, Dean, gross.” Sam said, all disgruntled bitch-face.  
“Seriously though, Sam- you do know this is the first time you’ve, ya know, held me since I’ve become bite-sized. I’m not suggesting we start cuddling like a bunch of girls, but I’d appreciate it if you helped me get around this place now that everything’s so much bigger.”  
A slightly uncomfortable look passed over Sam’s face, but it slowly relaxed away. He had managed to catch and save Dean just a moment ago, had kept his brother safe, despite how big and cumbersome Sam seemed now. Maybe everything would be fine as long as he was careful. If Dean trusted Sam enough to ask for help, then Sam could trust himself enough to hold his shrunken brother.  
“Yeah, no problem, Dean.”


	16. Sticks and Stones

John Winchester’s death was hitting the brothers hard, to put it lightly. Sam was devastated. His relationship with their father had always been turbulent, tense at best, and no one regretted that more than Sam, especially now. Dean, though, Dean was inconsolable. It wasn’t that Sam hadn’t tried to help his brother, because, God, the youngest Winchester has lost count of how many times he’s tried to get Dean to talk to Sam, to open up on multiple occasions, but Dean kept pushing Sam away. He just wanted to be there for his brother, like Dean had been there for him with Jess, so that they could grieve together. It’s painfully obvious that Dean was anything but ‘fine,’ yet he only responds to Sam’s attempts with anger.  
Sometimes Sam wonders if Dean blames him for their father’s death. Sometimes Sam thinks that Dean hates him. Sometimes Sam wishes that he had died instead of their dad, because, at least that way, Dean would have someone that he trusted enough to open up to instead of feeling like he had to keep everything all bundled up inside of himself till it came out in bursts of rage directed at Sam or the Impala.  
Then everything had come to a head when Sam pushed Dean one time too many, and Dean called Sam out on all of his shit. Made the younger brother realize that Dean didn’t want or need Sam, he just needed to be alone and let off steam everyone once in a while, and that Sam was being selfish and clingy. If Dean needed Sam to back off, then Sam would back off. Sam’s pain didn’t matter because Dean was hurting, and the youngest Winchester would do anything for his big brother.  
So, here they were, on their first hunt together since the hospital. They were going after a witch, and a particularly nasty one at that, so all of their focus had to be upon the hunt, and it was a welcome distraction. At least, until the brothers had finally tracked her down to her lair, and were searching for her. Sam can’t even remember how it got started, but one moment he and Dean are completely focused on the task at hand, and the next Dean’s got Sam shoved up against the wall, holding the younger hunter there by his shirt collar and shouting at the top of his lungs about how everything is all Sam’s fault, and if Sam had just been a better son and never left for that damned college then maybe Dad would still be alive, and Sam knew that everything Dean said and more was true.  
But then, out of the corner of his hazel eyes, Sam caught a glimpse of movement followed by a vibrant flash of color, and then he was shoving his big brother back and out of the way as the magic shot through the air and hit the younger hunter in the torso, sending him back against the wall where his head cracked harshly against the solid material. Everything was a blur of shouting and movement and gunfire after that. It wasn’t until someone was there, harshly shaking Sam’s shoulders, that he somewhat emerged from the daze he had been in.  
Then that someone- Dean, he vaguely recognizes- is pulling Sam up to a stand and then dragging him from the lair until the next thing the floppy haired man knows is that he’s sitting in the Impala, its engine growling, as Dean speeds down a highway.   
“D’n?” Sam mumbles, the dense fog that had fallen over his mind and body gradually clearing with every mile put between them and the now salted-n-burned witch. “De’n, what ‘appened?” When his brother remained stonily silent, the younger of the two twisted his aching body so that he was facing the other, his hazel eyes squinting as he struggled back to full consciousness. “Dean?”  
“Shut up, Sam,” the hunter growled darkly, his gaze purposefully fixed on the road.  
As Dean spoke, Sam felt a strange sensation sweep over himself; it was almost like the tingling numbness of a limb falling asleep as a prickly throb shadowed his body. He shifts uncomfortably on the leather seat, flexing his hands in an effort to dispel the discomfort bordering on pain while wondering what had brought this on. Any curiosity faded away as the feeling did too a couple seconds later. Turning back to his brother, the young hunter examined the man, concerned eyes sweeping over the dirt-smudged, tense figure that Dean presented as Sam realized that he couldn’t quite recall what had all happened back there. Had Dean gotten hurt and decided not to tell Sam? It wouldn’t be the first time.  
Well-calloused hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel as Dean felt the weight of the youngest Winchester’s worried gaze resting upon him. “If you don’t stop staring at me right now, Sam …” He let the threat hang in the air menacingly, but he didn’t feel any better when he saw his little brother quickly turn away from Dean out of the corner of his eye.  
Sam wasted no time in doing as his big brother ordered, moving to look out the window at the night scenery that sped past instead, even as the feeling from before returned once again, only marginally more painful this time, but still not enough for him to even contemplate mentioning it to Dean. His brother already had enough to deal with without Sam being even more of a burden by complaining about something so inconsequential as this. No, it’s better for Sam to stay silent than to risk Dean’s wrath.  
Unfortunately, Dean had no qualms in giving Sam a piece of his mind.  
“You just had to screw up again, didn’t you, Sam?” The younger hunter wasn’t quite sure how he had messed up this time, but he was sure that he had in some way. That seemed to be the only thing Sam was good at anymore. “Couldn’t even keep it together for one effing hunt, could you? Left me to do all the hard work while you fainted like a little bitch after you started a fight with me in the middle of a hunt. I don’t even know why I brang you in the first place- should’a just left your sorry ass back at Bobby’s.”  
Those spiteful, angry words tore at Sam’s heart, and he bit the soft flesh of his inner cheek to keep his emotions at bay, along with that sparking pain that had returned with renewed malice, pulsating in waves synced with Dean’s bitter words. Sam barely stifled a gasp of shock when his legs suddenly had more room to stretch out in the Impala’s height-unfriendly foot well and the seatbelt wasn’t digging into his broad shoulder as much as it should be. Dean, however, just ignored Sam in favor of turning into the parking lot of the motel that they were gonna crash at. It was either this sketchy joint, or pull an all-nighter just to get to Bobby’s house a little sooner, dealing with the mopey little brother in tow the whole way. To Dean, the right choice is obvious.  
Without sparing his little brother a glance, Dean shut down the Impala and grabbed his bag before exiting the vehicle with a slam, heading straight for the motel’s check-in office. A tide of fear was steadily rising in Sam’s chest, and the hunter quickly scrambled out of the car after his brother, having to hold up his now baggy shirt and pants so that they wouldn’t drop from his body. He almost fell in his rush, the bottoms of his jeans tangling up around his feet so that Sam was tripping over himself and the excess of material.  
“Dean! Dean, wait, something’s wrong!” The youngest Winchester’s call was shaky from the panic festering in his chest, but Dean mistook the distress for emotion of a different brand.  
Freezing where he stood, the elder hunter kept his back to Sam, clenching his hands into fists as he growled angrily, all low-toned and dangerous, “Sam, I swear to God, if you think we’re gonna sit here and have an effing chick-flic moment and talk,” Dean spat the word like a curse, “I’m gonna knock your lights out, man.”  
Hastening forward as best he could, Sam rushed to get Dean to listen. “No, Dean, I’m not trying to talk about Dad, I-”  
At the mention of their father, the older brother saw red. Once a-freakin’-gain, Sam was trying to get him to open up. Couldn’t the kid take a hint? Twisting around lightning fast, Dean threw a punch at Sam’s jaw that’d knock the guy straight on his ass, only to miss completely. His momentum threw him for a moment but Dean recovered speedily, only to drop his jaw in shock as his eyes landed down upon his little littler brother.  
There, standing before him, was Sam Winchester. Only smaller. Before his very eyes, he watched the younger hunter shrink another inch, having already lost just over a foot. Wide, terror filled hazel eyes, tinged with slight hurt, had to look upwards at Dean for the first time since Sam hit his growth spurt back in high school. Dean’s openly, unseemly gawking now, unable to do anything else as he stares uncomprehendingly. Only after a minute of silence passes and Sam shrinks another inch, a harsh wince flashing across his proportionately diminishing features, does Sam manage to pull Dean out of his shock induced haze.  
“I think that I’m, uh, losing an inch whenever you say or do something … angry.” Sam took time to choose his words carefully, hands now solely focusing on grappling with his pants, having pretty much given up on the shirt once it became too big for his smaller shoulders. His bright doe-eyes darted nervously across Dean’s features before turning downwards.  
Dean quirked an eyebrow at his little brother, not blind to how anxious Sam’s confession was, and decided to test out Sam’s theory. Turning around to face the motel, the older hunter shouted in his most enraged tone, “This place is a dump!” A quick glance back at Sam, who had not been affected at all by Dean’s furious outburst had the man fixing the other with a cruel sneer. “Wow, big surprise there, Sam, you were wrong. But, hey, what’s new? You know, maybe you should try and look out for yourself for once while we’re hunting- I can’t always be your babysitter Sam, so stop being such a whiney little bitch and try being a hunter for once in your _God damned life_! Maybe then you wouldn’t have effed up and gotten your dumb ass cursed, again.” The pure venom dripping from Dean’s words had Sam flinching, and almost immediately the smaller hunter began to lose even more height.  
This time, Sam collapsed to his knees as the excruciating sensation of his body being compressed from all sides bombarded his speedily shrinking being. A strangled noise choked its way out of Sam’s throat as the smaller hunter was attacked by wave after wave of agony. For a moment he wondered if it would never stop, not until he was just a speck, but then it was already becoming more bearable a moment later. When the pain finally ebbed away, he hazily looked up at Dean, who seemed to be frozen where he stood, an unreadable expression on the big brother’s face.  
With unsteady limbs, Sam clambered to his feet, having to look even further up to meet Dean eye to eye now. The top of his head came to about the center of Dean’s chest, and Sam was sure that he was nearing about four and a half feet, a far cry from his original six foot, four and a half inches.  
Though the world seemed to tilt and spin around him, the youngest Winchester managed to collect himself enough to speak again. “No, Dean, I meant that I shrink when you say angry things towards, you know, me …”  
Dean had found himself unable to move or call out as his little brother collapsed, obviously in quite a bit of pain after the older hunter had spoken. He felt something stirring deep in his chest, but quickly shoved it away. But when Sam clarified his previous statement, the eldest Winchester didn’t have a clue as to what to do, so he responded as he always did in situations like these.  
“Just get in the damn car, Sam, we’re going to Bobby’s. _Now_.” He snapped, only to internally wince along with Sam’s external one when the younger diminished another two inches in height.  
This was gonna be a long ride.

By the time the brothers made it to Bobby’s, Sam had already lost another couple of inches. It probably would’ve been more if Sam hadn’t passed out from pure exhaustion during the drive; turns out losing two feet in height really takes it out of you. Fortunately, Dean had had the foresight to phone ahead, so Bobby was ready and waiting for the brother’s arrival; already having begun research on whatever Sam had been whammied with.  
Of course Bobby’s pissed, but he still welcomes them in without too much of a hassle. Because they need to narrow down what type of curse Sam’s being affected by, Bobby gruffly criticizes Sam’s negligence towards taking care of himself on hunts with a stern tone but kind, worried eyes, and Sam surprisingly remained the same height. Yet when Dean was prompted to repeat the same words dispassionately, only for Sam to shrink in response, they learned that it was Dean and Dean alone who could cause Sam to shrink.  
Some old, better fitting clothes from the boy’s teen years were dug up from storage for Sam before he and Bobby focused their attentions on researching while Dean focused on not openly being such an ass-hat to his little brother, hopefully slowing Sam’s practically inevitable loss of height till they found the cure for this curse. It’s a tense and awkward dance around one another, but the brothers try and make it work, more or less. Mostly less on Dean’s side.  
There comes a point where Sam leaves the room, claiming he needs to stretch his legs- which, yes, the youngest Winchester really could use some fresh air given the latest curveball life’s thrown his way- but it was honestly more to give Dean some space. As usual, the older hunter was unsurprisingly frustrated, and Sam hoped that by providing his big brother the chance to talk to their surrogate father that maybe Dean could cool down a bit.  
Little did he know that this ‘talk’ consisted more of Bobby telling Dean that he better stop being such an idjit and get his head out of his ass when it comes to Sam or else, to which Dean readily responded by listing all the reasons why Sam is the last person he should be cutting some slack towards. What Sam did know, however, was that he’d only been outside for about five minutes before he was suddenly collapsing on the front porch with a pained yell as he blacked out.

When the little brother came to, it was to a world that had only gotten bigger. Above him hovered Bobby’s large, concerned face, his mouth moving and sounds coming out, but Sam’s hazy mind just couldn’t bring itself to connect those distorted noises to actual words. Rolling his head to the side, he found himself looking dazedly up at his brother, who was standing a few feet away, distinctively not looking at Sam.  
Accepting the hand that the elderly hunter offered, Sam was easily hoisted to his feet. Huh, on top of being less than half as tall as he’d normally be, the young man seemed to have lost a considerable amount of weight as well. In a troubling kind of way, it made sense. The hunter was sure he must make a strange sight to see; no bigger or heavier than a young child, but with the appearance and muscles of a mature body. As Sam realized that his clothes didn’t fit his smaller size, once again, he found his mind wandering to the other things that didn’t comply with his shrunken form. A mental list was quick and easy to compile: Sam could no longer reach the top shelf, nor easily carry, aim, and shoot a gun, nor drive a car, nor go out in public, nor fix this curse or bring back their dad, nor be whatever Dean needed him to be.  
What was Sam going to do if there wasn’t a way to fix this? What if Sam just kept shrinking down until there was nothing left? Would Dean be happy to leave his disabled brother behind? There was no way the big brother would stick around with Sam in his current state when Dean barely put up with the other even when he wasn’t being such a complete and utter burden.  
When Sam resurfaced from his internal monologue, he found that his gaze had drifted back towards his brother, but this time Dean was looking back. Feeling like he need to say something, Sam shrugged weakly. “Guess I don’t need to be in the room when you’re talking about me for me to shrink, huh?”  
A shadow passed over the older Winchester’s face before Dean turned on his heel, leaving the room without a word. Sam gave a shuddering sigh while agonizingly losing another inch. After the fire in his veins stopped burning the Winchester from the inside out, Sam looked up to Bobby who had placed a large, warm hand on his small shoulder.  
“Don’t let him get to you, Sam. That boy’ll come around sooner or later.”  
Sam sure hoped so. He was just afraid of what would come to be if it ended up happening not just later, but too late.

Bobby was able to narrow down the curse enough that they had a pretty good idea as to what was needed to cast the counter-curse. While this was a huge relief, it wasn’t all sunshine and daises either. It unfortunately also meant that Bobby had to leave the boys and meet up with some contacts to get the necessary spell components. Dean had volunteered to go in his place, but Bobby was quick to shut him down, insisting that Dean stay with his brother. Despite a few grumblings, which Bobby quickly shut down with a stern look, the brothers resolved to try and keep things as civil as possible in the older hunter’s absence.  
Ha.  
Dean first tried the silent treatment; if he didn’t say anything at all then he couldn’t say anything that might trigger the curse. This backfired almost immediately because the curse seemed to interpret that as being too rude. While Sam focused on breathing through the pain, Dean began to shout at the Heavens, cursing God and the world and the witch and this damned curse, putting all of his pent-up fury at everything into his cries of outrage. With nowhere else turn his glare, it fell upon Sam. That turned out to be a horrible mistake.  
Dean looked as if he had been physically struck when Sam became even smaller, the miniature man’s breathing coming in sharp, harsh huffs as he endured the curse’s side effect. In that moment, the older brother’s mask of anger almost crumbled (away to what, Sam isn’t sure) as he went to take a step closer, only to hold himself back, conflicted.  
As he spoke, Dean backed out of the room, bumping into furniture along the way, arms raised placatingly as the big brother made his speedy retreat. “No, I didn’t mean it like that, I didn’t- that wasn’t- I’m not angry at you, Sam, none of that was meant for you, I was- I just- I just need some air right now- but not because of you, Sam! Just because I need a breather, cause everything’s just fine between us, I am not mad at you. At all.” The words just babbled on as he fumbled to justify himself and reassure Sam and try and not trigger the curse at the same time.  
Sam decided to wait a couple of hours before joining his brother outside, bringing an unsettlingly cumbersome beer with him as peace offering. Dean stiffened when the child-sized hunter scrambled up on top of the Impala’s hood with some difficulty before taking a seat beside him on the black beauty. Passing the chilled bottle over to his big brother, Sam shrugged at Dean’s questioning glance.  
“I didn’t think it’d be that good of an idea for me to drink at this height. Wasn’t too sure how much it’d affect me.” Sam said simply.  
“Makes sense,” Dean replied in a perfectly even tone.  
The eldest Winchester was determined to keep to simple phrases and pleasantries, not trusting himself nor willing to risk putting Sam through any more than he already had. Luckily, this worked just fine for Sam. He needed this time to talk; just in case he didn’t get another opportunity.  
“I … I know that you don’t really want to talk to me right now,” Sam began meekly, gaze set firmly forward towards the setting sun even as he saw Dean turn slightly towards him out of the corner of his eye. “And, I get that, I really do. I’m not really sure that I’d wanna talk to myself either.” He half-joked with a slight chuckle, but it seemed to fall flat with his brother. “Umm. _Ahem_. I just wanted to apologize to you, for, you know, just about everything. I’m sorry that I’ve been bothering you so much lately, that you’ve had to put up with me being selfish on top of everything else. And for being stupid enough to get cursed. You were right; I should’ve been more careful on the hunt.  
“But I’m also sorry about Dad,” He kept going even as Dean sharply looked away, “and that I couldn’t take a hint and leave you to deal with this on your own, like you wanted me to, but I just wanted to be there for you like you’ve been there for me. But, I get that when it comes to family, I kind of suck at it, and I get it if you hate me, or blame me, or would rather have Dad here instead of me. I really do.” As Sam continued, Dean’s grip on the beer bottle tightened and tightened to the point that Sam was worried it would shatter in his brother’s hand, but he couldn’t stop, not yet.  
“I just needed to let you know that I’m sorry, and that I don’t blame you at all for this curse, or my size, cause, Dean, I’m here for you. And, if you need me around only to have someone to be angry at, or throw a couple of punches at every once in a while, then I can do that for you, man. I can do anything that you need me to do- I _will_ do anything that you need me to do. Because, even if you don’t need or want a brother right now, you’ll always be mine, even if I’m not always yours. And, God, Dean, I’m so sorry for everything, I just want you to know that, if nothing else.”  
By the time Sam’s finished, Dean is literally shaking where he sits. He won’t say a word, won’t look at Sam, won’t do anything but hold onto his beer like it’s his last lifeline. When they finally look at each other, there’s an indecipherable look in those vibrant green eyes which scares Sam more than he’d like to admit. At any moment now, the youngest Winchester is expecting his big brother to erupt in an explosion of anger and condemnation. How else would Dean react to the total chick-flick that Sam had just shoved down his throat?  
Eventually, Dean finally opens his mouth to speak, setting his beer down on the sleek metal between them. Except, before he can verbally cast Sam out, the open bottle falls over, spilling all over Sam, who shrinks another torturous inch. A horrible strangled noise rises from Dean as he fumblingly takes off his outer flannel with trembling hands and presses the fabric against Sam’s wet clothing in an attempt to help dry his shivering little brother, because apparently smaller bodies mean that the tiny person can get cold much easier than they should have any right to.  
But his shaking hands cause him to accidently press too hard on the little guy, that and the unhelpful factors of Sam being so damn small and Dean barely containing a major freak out right now were not helping anybody, so, of course, Sam shrinks again, and Dean just jumps up off of the car and practically sprints away from Sam back to the house, missing the moment where his little brother gets even smaller as consequence.

It’s rather troubling when Sam realizes just how much longer than usual it takes him to get back to the house now. His legs were so much smaller than normal, he had to take about three steps for what would usually be one. When his teeth began to chatter, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes; on top of everything else, Sam now had to worry about maintaining his body heat now. It was annoying how vulnerable the hunter had become in such a short amount of time; the world was so much bigger when you’re less than three feet tall. Things that he would never have seen as any type of challenge were now troublesome for him, things like walking up the oversized porch steps and actually being relieved that he could still reach the doorknob.  
Sam noted that Dean hadn’t appeared to have wasted any time raiding Bobby’s booze supply, because the man is drunk when Sam finds him. Holding back a sigh, the miniature hunter walks across the living room and gently pries the now-empty bottle of jack from Dean’s loose grip. Dean, who had been staring listlessly at the ceiling, brightens drastically when he notices Sam.  
Before the shrunken man can react, Dean’s leaned forward and picked him up like a little kid, placing Sam on his lap and holding him close like he did when they were young. He laughs drunkenly at the pained indignation on his brother’s small face as Sam shrinks again.  
“ _YYyyeer so shorrt, Sammmy_ ,” Dean slurred, happily patting Sam’s shrinking head before his mood suddenly switched to melancholy. The copious amounts of alcohol the eldest Winchester drank definitely threw any form of filter out the window as he began to vent without inhibition. Everything that’s been on the man’s mind just tumbles from his mouth; good, bad, kind or hurtful, Dean says it all as his brother regresses in height even further.  
Sam was focused on just trying to ignore the horrible shrinking process and be there for Dean, but the pain was too much. With a hitching gasp, Sam passes out even as he becomes smaller and smaller. Drunken mind not quite grasping what’s happening, Dean grabs his diminishing brother and clutches the small form to his chest, eyes stinging with emotion as he too loses consciousness, soft mumbles still coming even in his alcohol-driven sleep.

Sam awakes to a world that’s flying past him as he plummets through the air, a terrified yelp fleeing his lips before he collides and rolls against a rough yet giving material. Then he shrunk another inch, an experience that had escalated to being one of the top five most painful things Sam has ever gone through, and he couldn’t hold back the scream this time.  
When he next opens his eyes, he looks around with tear-blurred vision. _Oh, God, no._ Everything was just humongous now. Sam couldn’t be more than a half foot tall, he realized, and began to shake uncontrollably. It was then that he registered the gentle whispering, which sounded like someone talking normally to him, coming from above.  
Turning onto his back, Sam had to crane his neck to look at his brother’s face, which was a mural-sized picture of distress. It didn’t take long for the shrunken man to realize what must have happened; Dean had woken up, forgotten about Sam, and sat up, which sent the small brother flying. It wasn’t so much the forgetting part that bugged Sam- he was no bigger than a small doll now, he couldn’t blame Dean for waking up and not registering his tiny form- no, it was how easily he could have gotten hurt by such a simple action. If he had flown any further he would’ve landed on the floor, not Dean’s lap, and if that didn’t kill Sam, then getting stepped on by Dean when the big brother got up surely would’ve.  
But, obviously Dean was feeling horrible about it either way, and Sam was sure that his own cries of pain hadn’t helped that at all, so he plastered the best fake smile he could on his mini face and tried to dismiss Dean’s worries. No need to freak out about something that they couldn’t do anything about.  
“’m fine, Dean, just a little shook up.” Sam called up, having to raise his voice to make sure Dean would clearly hear the words.  
Dean still didn’t seem fully convinced, but he didn’t say anything either, so Sam took it as a win.  
It was then that Sam noticed that he was completely naked, his clothes having dropped from his far too small body when he shrunk last night. His cheeks turned bright red, and he tried to keep himself covered, but for some reason, Dean didn’t even broach the subject to tease him.  
Then a giant hand began to slowly inch it’s way closer towards Sam, and the tiny hunter tried not to show how nervous the simple motion made him. The unbidden image of being snatched up in an unrelenting, inescapable fist had Sam’s throat convulsing at a harsh, dry swallow. There was no doubt in his mind that Dean could easily grab the smaller man if he wanted to, and that Sam wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it, but he tried to keep in mind that this was Dean, and Dean wouldn’t hurt him. Well, not purposefully anyways. Or at least not with the intention to do lasting damage. Sam needed to stop this train of thought right now.  
Thankfully, rather than grabbing him like Sam feared, the hand opened up before him, the palm becoming a flat, broad platform. Glancing back up at Dean, Sam saw the unspoken question in those huge green eyes. Brushing aside any doubt, the youngest Winchester bravely climbed onto the hand and sat down, deciding that standing probably would deter his balance for what would surely be a rocky ride.  
Imagine his surprise though when Dean’s giant fingers slowly, cautiously curled inwards, cupping around Sam in a warm, soft wall of flesh to help safeguard the mini guy as he stood up so slowly, so carefully that it was almost tedious. Sam was amazed. Even as Dean, who now towered above his little companion, walked across the room into the kitchen, all Sam felt was a slight swaying motion and breeze passing him by. This way, by far, the gentlest Dean had been probably ever. The same amount of care was put into settle his large hand on the table, and even though Sam knew that they were both hunters and trained to be graceful and steady-handed, this was just ridiculous.  
Sam stepped of the hand and onto the wooden dining table once it hand stopped moving. Dean then step away to grab a quick breakfast and some aspirin for what must be a raging hangover. The fact that Dean had stayed so focused while he was feeling the penalties of the copious amounts of alcohol he drank last night made it just that much more awe-inspiring. Who was this stranger and where had his brash, noisy, rough-handed big brother gone?  
As the silence carried on between them, Sam couldn’t help but notice how cold he was. If he had thought it was bad last night, then he was sorely mistaken; it was like the tiny hunter wasn’t even producing his own body heat at the rate the cool air sapped it away, and not having any clothes did not help one bit. Sam turned and sat patiently down upon the table, pulling his knees up to his chest to try and conserve any warmth that he could.  
Once Dean quietly returned to the table, taking the seat in front of Sam but being careful not to move to fast at any moment, the giant carefully handed the little guy bite-sized chunks of toast and bacon, even though they were just the right proportion for Sam. Dean had also thought to bring Sam a bit of cloth, which Sam gratefully tied around his waist to cover his manhood.  
For a moment, Sam thinks about calling out Dean on not talking, but then thinks better of it. The tiny man is sure that Dean must have a good reason to stay quiet; if he doesn’t want to talk to Sam, the little brother won’t make him.  
They make it halfway through breakfast without incident, until Sam looks up at the sound of a choked sob to a mountainous big brother who looks about two seconds away from breaking down. Leaping to his feet, the miniature hunter discarded his foot crumbs in favor of rushing towards his brother, who freezes once Sam touches his large hand with his own miniscule one.  
Dean speak with specifically chosen words, very conscious of using the most kind, sincere, and soft tone to talk to Sam. “Sammy, I know that things have sucked ass between us,” the giant shuddered as his little brother lost another harrowing fraction of his remaining height, and hastened to continue on, “but, dude, you gotta know that I never stopped giving a damn about you. It’s just- Dad’s gone, and I don’t know how to deal with it, with anything, but that’s not your fault. And I’m sorry that I let you think any of that ass-backwards things, because I could never hate you or blame you or any of that shit, cause, Sam, at the end of the day we’ll always be brothers.  
“But, Sam, I’ve already lost Dad, and there’s no way that I can lose you too, especially not because I’m always such a dick to my little brother instead of just being there for you when you need me to be.” Tentatively, Dean raises a finger and rubs it along Sam’s back in a feather-light imitation of a touch. Now Sam’s all teary too, and he shouts up at Dean that it’s all fine and that the tiny hunter doesn’t blame him, but Dean just shakes his head no in denial. “Don’t try and brush this one off, Sam. I’ve been an ass, and we all know it.”  
“Well, at least you’ve realized it, ya idjit.” Bobby’s gruff voice rang out across the kitchen, startling the boy’s out of their moment. The unexpected interruption caused Dean to start, consequently jolting the finger against Sam so that the little man was shoved to his knees. Both of the normal-sized hunter winced harshly as Sam’s tiny agonized screams rang out through the air, Dean flinching away from his brother and hurrying away from the shrunken guy, not willing to risk any of Sam’s remaining three and a half inches.  
“Just tell us that you got what you needed,” Dean demanded, just a hint of desperation slipping through as he composed himself now that the elder hunter was present.  
“Course I did, boy. Give me half an hour and your brother’ll be back to normal.” Crouching down in front of the table, Bobby gave the mini figure a quirked smile. “Sound good to you, Sam?”  
“Hell yeah!” Sam’s eager shout caused him to let out a small chuckle, but it was enough to ruffle the little guy’s floppy hair in the warm wind it created.  
The following twenty minutes were filled with Sam watching Bobby bustle around the kitchen busily as he prepared the anti-curse, and Dean shooting Sam reassuring grins whenever they made eye contact. Finally, it was done, and they all looked down at the strange, bubbling, purple goop on the stove.  
“Wait, your telling me that Sammy’s gotta drink all of that in one go? There’s no way, Bobby; he’s way too small, he’ll never be able to.” Dean protested, eying up both Sam and the disgusting concoction, only to bite back a curse when Sam shrank again- that’s only two and a half left. Sam was now too little for his cloth, but he was also tiny enough that he didn’t really have to worry about trying to stay modest around the surrounding giants; he was too small for them to make out any details anymore.  
“Actually, Dean, you’re the one that has to drink it.” Bobby said, an amused glint in his eyes.

“What?” The hunter squawked indignantly. “Why me? Sam’s the one who’s cursed, Bobby.”

“Don’t you backtalk me, boy; I know what I’m talking about. Now stow that yap and get to it- that is, unless you’d rather your brother stay bite-sized for the rest of his life, or until you spout off again.”   
That shut Dean up real quick, and with one last glance at Sam, he turned to the potion and began scarfing it down as quick as he could, but that didn’t stop him from almost gagging on every bite. Five excruciating minutes later, he threw his spoon down and turned expectantly back to Sam, who was still shrunk on the table.   
Before he could even question Bobby again, the elder hunter spoke again. “Now apologize. Do that, and Sam should be back to normal. This was a curse specifically targeted at you boy’s relationship; the witch must’a seen the two of you bickering.” He looked knowingly at the eldest Winchester before tipping his baseball cap and leaving them to it.   
Taking a deep breath, Dean moved to kneel before the table so that he was eye to eye with his little brother. Sam stared up at him with wide eyes, and for a moment the brothers just took in the absolute insanity that was the contrasting size of the other.   
“Hey, Sammy?” Dean whispered down at his tiny brother.   
“Yeah, Dean?” Sam shouted back up at the giant towering above him.   
“You get a free shot when all of this is over,” he said with a wink, and then, bam! Lying on the table, naked as the day he was born, was a fully grown, normal-sized Sam.   
Looks like the curse spoke Winchester.   
After recovering his modesty best he could with the coat Dean tossed his way, Sam darted forward so that he was right in front of his big brother, who braced himself for a punch, only for Sam to envelop him in a giant bear hug. They stayed like that for a moment, parting before Dean’s ego and manliness was eternally and irreparably damaged.   
“It’s so good to be the tall one again.”   
“Ha ha, laugh it up, Thumbelina. You’re just lucky that I didn’t just throw you in a cage and let you run around on a hamster wheel. Now go put some clothes on, Bitch, you look like a cheap stripper. And not the good kind.”   
Yeah. They were gonna be just fine.


	17. Shrunk Sam Drabble 2

Of course, things for the tiny Winchester only went downhill from there, as the angel, who of course zapped away all clothes aside from a tight pair of boxer briefs, smoothly slid a humungous hand under Dean’s ass and the mattress. Sam was forced against his brother’s cheeks even more than before when Cas steadily and oh so stealthily, so as to not wake the sleeping hunter, pushed Dean onto his side and slipped into the warm space left behind, closing the distance and effectively sandwiching the shrunken man between their bodies as the gigantic angel spooned the equally mountainous dozing human.   
Any and all struggles to escape just ended up propelling Sam’s tiny body either up against the giant, limp cock before him or the warm, firm ass behind. A moment later, Sam regretted everything as Cas’s length began to harden from his efforts. The tiny man bit back a shout of frustration, knowing that it would do nothing for him beside get a mouth full angel underwear for his troubles. Not that he wasn’t tempted to bite Cas to try and get the giant’s attention, but he hadn’t quite reached the point where he’d willingly be found in this position. Not yet, at least.   
But when Cas decided to luxuriously drag his cock up and down the crease of Dean’s ass, his brother unconsciously grinded back into the slow thrusts, Sam’s patience would be quickly put to the test.


	18. The Great Communication Issue

One of the biggest difficulties faced when your big brother is suddenly smaller than your finger is how near impossible it becomes to communicate with said shrunken brother in public. It’s not like Sam can just walk around in broad daylight holding the tiny hunter in hand; they’ve already got enough on their plate without a mass freak-out over the supposed discovery of Borrowers.   
Thing is, Dean prefers travel by shoulder to travel by pocket. Even Dean’s crippling fear of heights is brushed aside in favor of avoiding the unsteady swaying and shifting sensations along with the suffocating quality of the stuffy air in the small confines. The added bonus of being decently hidden by Sam’s ridiculously long hair and being able to speak to the colossus only sweetened the deal.   
The only real downside was that Sam could never talk back, along with the niggling fear that someone might notice Dean’s small voice. Drawing any more attention to himself by seeming like some nutjob who talked to himself was the last thing the man wanted, seeing as his imposing stature already did that enough on its own.   
It wasn’t until Sam noticed a frustrated business man supposedly doing that very thing that a broad smile, dimples and all, appeared on his face.   
Next time the brothers went out together, Sam spoke freely to Dean, not worried in the slightest about the glances that lingered on him for a moment longer than usual. After Dean made some unnecessarily rude but appreciatively hilarious comment about the women beside them who was staring up at Sam like he was a madman, Sam burst into an uncontainable fit of laughter.   
Only when the woman looks close to running away screaming does Sam gather his composure and turn his head to the side, tapping the Bluetooth device on his ear with no small amount of smugness. A heavy blush would cover the woman’s face, and she’d stammer some excuse and walk away, leaving the brothers to triumphantly enjoy Sam’s stroke of brilliance.


	19. The Sniffles

Poor tiny, recently human Cas has the sniffles, so the bros spend the weekend hovering over the tiny guy and making sure that he’s okay and has everything he needs   
Sam whips him up some warm tea, but the cup is so big that the little guy just climbs in and takes a soothing, hot bath, much to the youngest Winchester’s chagrin.   
Dean always checking in to make sure that the tiny man isn’t too cold or too hot, more than willing to scoop Cas up into his hands and against his chest if the former angel gets the chills   
Both of the boys fretting when they can’t give Cas any medicine because he’s just too small and they worry about how it’ll affect his shrunken body   
Cas insisting that the brothers don’t need to worry so much, even though he secretly loves how cared for and protected the giants are making him feel as his body seems to have it out for him.   
Poor tiny human Cas accidently getting lost and the brothers just totally lose it to the extreme; not only did they lose their small and helpless friend, but they lost Cas when he was sick! The former angel was having a hard enough time dealing with being human, and one with a cold on top of that, but now he was only Chuck knows where, potentially hurt and in danger and cold and hungry and still miserable from this darn cold.   
I would be in tears if I was him. Hearing your giant friends booming footsteps as they carefully crept around the bunker looking for you. And being too weak and sick to call out. And even if he could, he would probably sound like Kate Winslet at the end of Titanic, complete with the whole, “Come back! Come back!”   
When the bros finally do find their misplaced buddy, they’d be oh so very sorry and gentle and kind and do everything to make it up to Cas, even though the little guy doesn’t really blame them in the slightest; he just wants for this sickness to be over and done with already.   
They could even set up his favorite show for him on a laptop and keep him set up in the library while they research how to fix him.


	20. Hide-N-Seek

One thing I love seeing with G/t is Bigs finding tinies. It doesn’t happen nearly enough.  
Think of Sammy getting shrunk when the boys are young, like, really young. Sam’s only 6 and Dean’s 10. So Sam decides to play hide-and-go-seek with his huge big brother without telling the other. Que Dean desperately searching the motel room for the next hour for his disappeared little brother, like, frantically checking every crack and drawer, crawling around on the floor, only to find the tiny guy curled up and taking a nap somewhere completely random.  
Maybe this seems cute to us, but think of the pure panic that Dean would feel at the thought of having lost Sammy. The little guy wasn’t big enough to cross the street on his own yet, let alone face any of the dangers that a giant-sized world would throw at him.  
Dean would’ve torn that place apart searching for Sam.  
And I dunno if this would have taken place after the whole Strigta ordeal, but if it had, the entire time the thought of something supernatural having taken his little brother would be running through Dean’s mind, along with how furious his dad was gonna be if he found out that Dean hadn’t been looking after Sammy well enough.  
But, as soon as he lays eyes on that miniature slumbering form, all the tension would seep out of Dean’s body as he gently reached forward and cupped little Sammy into his hand, careful enough so as not to wake him, and held the tiny guy against his chest, keeping him safe and sound. This way, in Dean’s hands, the big brother could look out for and protect Sammy from anything.


	21. Itty-Bitty Boy King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aka, the fic idea where Sam is super smol and accepts his place as Hell’s king, and all the demons are both terrified and amused by his miniature rule and unprecedented power.  
> This is from another chat with the ever endearing Peacejojo, but this one is a bit darker and unsettling than the others, so be forewarned.

It all started with picturing a bad guy forcing food upon a tiny- pinning their arms to their side and practically shoving the item all over their face as the tiny can’t turn away. It’d be horrible and so gross and dangerous, with a more than likely chance of choking.   
Then it all went to Hell from there. ( _Literally, haha_ )   
Think of demon Dean doing that to tiny shrunken Sam with his blood to get Sam addicted again. The little guy doesn’t stand a chance at fighting the colossal demon off, not at this size.   
Sam wouldn’t want it, but he’d have no choice but drink or drown in the hands of his demonic brother. It would look like a horror scene! His upper body would be soaked with Dean’s hot, sticky blood.   
Imagine Dean filling an entire bowl with the stuff and puts Sam in there and a lid on top, not letting Sammy out till he’s drank it all.   
And even though Sam would want to exorcise Dean at first, he couldn’t, power boost be damned. Despite his small size, his Supernatural powers reach comparatively insane proportions due to the ridiculous amounts of demonic plasma he took in ( _it’d be like downing whole swimming pools of supernatural energy drinks in one sitting_ ). I like to think that the Mark of Cain acts kind of like that one brand Meg used in season one, except better; making sure that Dean stays trapped in his own body and can’t be exorcised, no matter how much demon juice Sam’s running on. But that doesn’t mean he’s vulnerable to the rest of Sam’s powers though.   
Bonus points if Dean goes with it all, once Sam accepts his role as miniature King of Hell, and is Sam’s right hand demon, carrying his baby bro all over the place on his shoulder as the get Hell straightened out. It’s all about that Demon!Dean and his tiny brother, the Boy King of Hell.   
LOL, imagine them at a bar, Dean drinking whiskey and Sam’s being like, “Dean! Hit me up!” And Dean putting a needle in his arm with a tube that Sam could use to drink the blood from. That’s actually pretty disturbing, but also still somehow hilarious to me. It’s all so messed up, but I’m picturing this cheesy cartoon of Sam being all serious and then sucking on this tube like a baby or a gerbil. And the thing filling his mouth completely, and just looking ridiculous. And Dean just encouraging him to drink up and get his fill, dear lord. Someone stop this madness!   
Dean holding Sam like a baby and feeding him demon blood. I don’t know how, but just imagine the little weirdo being content. Freakin’ Sam dozing off in Dean’s arms with a tummy full of warm demon blood, the tainted and toxic dark magic working its way into his system as Demon Dean watches over his corrupted little Sammy with a dark pride glimmering in those obsidian black eyes.


	22. Size Shifter Bros

One thing that just rocks my socks is size shifters: people that can go normal sized, big, and tiny. Of course, there’s the voluntary ability to do it, but I prefer when the power is involuntarily linked to their emotions; when they feel sad, overlooked, doubtful, anxious, and all those melancholy emotions the shifter goes tiny, but when they’re angry or extremely happy, excited, and courageous they grow.   
Picture Sam and Dean going through all of the events in the canon TV show, only as size shifters.   
When John died, Dean’s height would constantly urge him to fluctuate from a giant to a tiny as he’s both grieving and in furious denial, but he’d only focus on his anger and stay colossal for weeks, a brooding, angsty mountain of a Winchester. Meanwhile, Sam would be depressed and smol all by himself, not able to get his giant brother to even acknowledge the youngest Winchester at his miniature height. You remember when Dean threw that punch at Sam? Well, in this version, he’d not have only thrown that punch, but he’d be about 15 ft tall when doing it, and Sam could have shrunk down a bit, making it have that much more of an impact and force behind it   
While he was hooked on drinking demon blood, Sam would always be at least a foot or so taller than normal, and would constantly go through suddenly bursts in height, especially when he’s actively drinking the stuff.   
But after Sam sets Lucifer free, he’d go tiny, and  _stay_ tiny. Like, practically miniscule.   
This has me thinking of Dean dealing with size shifting when he was Lisa and Ben; Growing as he’s being overprotective of them, shrinking a little when he gets worried the djinn got his new family, and then immediately growing a little bigger than normal when they walk into the house.   
Soulless Sam never changing in size, and creeping Dean the heck out because of it; Sammy would normally always be shifting size involuntarily, seeing as his emotions bounce all over the place, being the giant girl that the floppy haired Winchester is. If I was Dean, I would be afraid to go tiny around robo!Sam. But looking deeper into Soulless Sam part- maybe he actually  _couldn’t_ size shift. Like, he would try to originally, but find that he couldn’t summon the emotions to do so. It’d be a major clue to Dean early on in that season that something was off with Sam.   
Demon Dean growing to ginormous proportions, terrorizing everyone as Sam would try and gather his courage to grow as well to stand a chance against the Deanmon. But he’d have so much trouble being strong, let alone holding it together and not shrinking. Sam’d need a lot of booze to get the job done.   
So, fast-forwarding just a bit from the Demon Dean part, picture Sam actually getting a kinda traumatic phobia of Dean being bigger than him. While Dean still has the Mark, Sam doesn’t feel comfortable when Dean grows, or Sam shrinks cause it brings back bad memories. Think of the Mark making Dean gain ten feet at seemingly random moments when it fills him with that fury and need for bloodshed.   
If I’m going to be kinda evil though, we’re gonna take this idea all the way back the start; right back to Stanford.    
Sam sees Jess burning on the ceiling and immediately shrinks super small as he’s filled with terror and sadness and guilt and desperation and all these horrible emotions, but he knows he needs to grow big, to be strong, cause if he could then he could reach her and save her, but he can’t get a grip enough to do so, so Sam has to watch her die, helpless, wishing he could just grow on command and not emotions now more than ever before, but Dean, bigger than usual with the adrenaline pumping through him, storms in and saves tiny Sammy before it’s too late. This’d just make Sam’s guilt that much worse   
Think about that scene where Charlie and Dorothy got confronted by Dean and Sam possessed/controlled by the wicked witch. What if the bros had both grown?!   
On a happier note, picture all of the size-related shenanigans the bros could pull on each other- picture the pranks wars with this! They would be so great!   
There are just sooo many awesome size opportunities with this- they’re literally everywhere!


	23. Collab with Shrinkynatural

[ ](http://shrinkynatural.tumblr.com/post/144354151144)

[shrinkynatural](http://shrinkynatural.tumblr.com/post/144354151144)

Imagine a 20-year-old Dean getting shrunk while John’s away on a hunt, and a rebellious 16-year-old Sammy being _very_ pleased with this situation. He can do whatever he wants and Dean can’t boss him around anymore.

Dean doesn’t have to worry though! He’ll take care of him, keep him safe and fed. Anything that happens to Dean is purely the fault of him not keeping his tiny self where Sam puts him and wandering around instead.

[ ](http://pocketable-spn.tumblr.com/post/144361332335)

[pocketable-spn](http://pocketable-spn.tumblr.com/post/144361332335)

Think of Sam deciding it might be kinda cool to have his tiny big bro hang out on his shoulder while Sam decided to go out of the motel room to get some fresh air and maybe catch a movie, despite Dean’s orders against doing so.  
This arrangement would only last for about 2.5 seconds before Dean would nearly have a panic attack from the dizzying height, clinging and tugging on Sammy’s floppy hair to keep himself from surely toppling to his terrifying doom. Agitated and wincing from the sharp pain of hair pulling, Sam doesn’t hesitate in scooping the shrunken man into a fist before shoving Dean into the front pocket of his hand-me-down jeans without so much as a warning.  
This was both better and worse for Dean. Better, because the older Winchester no longer felt as if he might die from the sheer horrifying amount of distance between him and the ground below. Worse, because the pants pocket was tight, dark, and stuffy. Sam’s steady pace meant that what little room Dean had was rhythmically contracting around him, not giving the tiny man much opportunity to climb out of this denim prison. Resigning himself to spending the foreseeable future trapped against his brother’s leg, Dean would let his small form slip deeper into the pocket’s depths.  
That is, until he realized that this particular pair of pants had a gaping hole in place of what should be sewn fabric. Now the miniature Winchester renewed his struggles with new passion; shouting and kicking and striving to climb away from the gaping bottom.  
Sam, unaware of his brother’s predicament, firmly pressed the small writhing form against his thigh with his hand, not too hard so as to hurt Dean, but enough to warn him to stop making such a fuss. All of this power over his brother was so very heady to Sam.  
Once the powerful force of Sam’s palm removed itself after Dean stopped struggling, the pocket-sized big brother groaned as he slipped through the hole, both fight and breath literally knocked out of his shrunk body by the overwhelming force of a simple push.  
Just managing to halt his descent further down his little brother’s pants, Dean clung to the front of Sam’s boxers, struggling to regain his composure and keep his grip as the thinly covered flesh (which Dean _did not_ want to even acknowledge as his baby brother’s junk) gave an interested twitch beneath his miniscule hands. God, Dean hoped that Sam would figure out what had happened and get him out of here sooner rather than later.  
Flushing for more than one reason, Sam tried to will away the sudden and inexplicable arousal that sprung forth in his dick. Stupid teenage hormones; giving him a hard-on for absolutely no reason at all in broad daylight. Then, remembering his brother’s position oh so close to his new-found erection, Sam would choose to resolutely ignore his cock for as long as he could, not wanting to give Dean yet another reason to tease his younger brother.

[ ](http://shrinkynatural.tumblr.com/post/144362702269)

[shrinkynatural](http://shrinkynatural.tumblr.com/post/144362702269)

Euuuugh, yes. But the longer Sam ignores his hard-on, the more tired Dean’s arms will get as he walks through town. The gap in Sam’s boxers is right there and Dean doesn’t want to but he knows it’s better than falling possibly unnoticed down Sam’s pant leg and left on the sidewalk somewhere. Bracing himself, Dean wedges himself into the opening. If he keeps one leg on the inside and one on the outside, he can straddle the bottom of the gap and take most of the strain off his arms. When Sam takes a step his junk swings close enough to brush Dean’s inside arm and leg but nope, he’s not thinking about that.

Outside, Sam bites his lip as the tingling in his cock just gets worse. Every step he takes gives him a little zing of pleasure and he doesn’t know WHY? Is it just hormones, is it because he knows his big brother is in his pocket so close but unaware of Sam’s arousal? Either way it has to be dealt with or he won’t be able to concentrate on the movie.

The theater is quiet when he gets there, just a few staff members cleaning and getting things ready for the next showing, and Sam heads straight into the restroom. He checks the other stalls to make sure he’s alone and locks himself in the one farthest from the door.

“I’m just going to use the restroom, okay, Dean?” he says, flushing a little more at the lie as he undoes his jeans. “Then I’ll let you out.”

The pop of his jeans button and rumble of the zipper drown out his words to his brother’s ears, so all Dean knows is that Sam’s undoing his pants. He must have finally felt him, he thinks with relief. It would’ve taken a little bit to find a safe place to get him out, true. He leans back and looks up to wave sheepishly at Sam, but Sam isn’t even looking down at him. He’s looking over his shoulder at the stall door like he’s checking for something, and his hand is reaching down blindly right for Dean!

[ ](http://pocketable-spn.tumblr.com/post/144370199135)

[pocketable-spn](http://pocketable-spn.tumblr.com/post/144370199135)

Sam’s eyes flutter shut as he palms his throbbing dick, biting his lip to hopefully stifle the whimper that threatened to escape him at the feeling of cloth against his hard and aching cock. The youngest Winchester is infuriatingly caught between keeping a lookout so that no one walks in on him, and dealing with this as quickly and inconspicuously as possible so that his shrunken brother doesn’t figure out what’s really happening.  
It’s too bad that it’s all for nothing, as the rest of Dean’s tiny body is shoved by an unknowing Sam right through the gap into a dark and sweaty and masturbation-centered world. Pinned against his huge little brother’s stiff and hot dick, Dean’s struggles to get out of the way may as well have been nonexistent.  
Even as his own miniature cock twitches from what it was convinced to be an incredibly hot scenario, Dean glared down at the traitorous member; there was no way he was going to get off on his baby brother using his tiny body to masturbate.  
Sam doesn’t even hear Dean’s calls for help as the kid is so focused on the pleasure wracking his lanky frame with every stroke of his hand. Though he longs to shove his boxers down, Sam didn’t want to lose the oh so sweet tingling sensation he gets with every caress of his hand, so he leaves the underwear, and Dean, right where they are.

[ ](http://shrinkynatural.tumblr.com/post/144373330714)

[shrinkynatural](http://shrinkynatural.tumblr.com/post/144373330714)

It’s too much. Sam thought he was being quiet, but even the softest whimpers and gasps echoed down to Dean’s prison and went straight into his ears. He tried to block them out but it was impossible and his mind just kept screaming that Sam was moaning because of _him_ , he was this turned on because of _him_ , and against his will his cock hardened and his hips bucked into his little brother’s own hard-on. He must have moved at just the right moment because a gush of precome poured down over him and Sam let out a choked off groan.

The sound was like music to Dean’s guilty ears. All right, he decided, he’s doing this. At least it would get it over with faster, like he wasn’t getting any enjoyment out of it at all.

Sam knew he was getting close, his limbs were trembling and he adjusted his stance so he could lean forward and brace his free arm on the wall and really thrust into his hands. It wasn’t going to take much more, teenage hormones speeding him along. “Almost–,” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. “Almost done, _Dean_.”

Hearing his name gasped out in pleasure in his brother’s voice was the biggest turn-on Dean had ever felt, and he began to thrust in earnest every time Sam’s hand would push him into the massive cock. All of a sudden Sam was pushing harder, and harder, and then he _pushed_ and _held_ him and just _rubbed_ his fingers over Dean’s small, helpless body as he came. Come splattered down onto Dean, covering him in the sticky fluid and the smell of it–the taste of it–pushed Dean over his own edge and he was adding his own minuscule orgasm to the mix. Sam unknowingly rocked him through it, milking out every last bit until he moved his hand away and Dean closed his eyes and tiredly slid down his little brother’s sticky cock.

[ ](http://pocketable-spn.tumblr.com/post/144385906195)

[pocketable-spn](http://pocketable-spn.tumblr.com/post/144385906195)

Sometime during the trip between the bathroom and the theater, Dean’s small body, with the aid of tacky come slicking the way and Sam’s giant hand not so helpfully adjusting his damp boxers, was pushed and pulled and slid down between the cheeks of his little brother’s ass. Exhausted, spent, and completely done with being tiny, nothing more than an agitated grumble was heard from Dean as he descended further and further.  
The miniature man’s fate was sealed when Sammy eagerly bounced down into his seat, looking forward to the featured flic, unintentionally sending Dean even deeper into his little brother’s crack, so that he’s firmly wedged between the two cheeks and doesn’t really want to consider what he’s pushed up against, cause getting off with Sammy may be one thing, but this was something else entirely.  
Two hours later, the youngest Winchester is practically panting in his seat, clenching and unclenching his hands and ass. That deep-seated flame of arousal had once again sparked to life in Sam’s gut, all due to the maddening, relentless tingling pulses against Sam’s hole. It was almost as if something was determined to give Sam a hard on today while his shrunken brother was trapped in his pocket.  
Meanwhile, Dean has spent the entire movie trying his damnedest to get Sammy’s attention, only for the kid to get all squirmy and sweaty. Go figure.  
As soon as the credits start rolling, Sam is outa there. He’s practically sprinting back to the motel room, wanting- no, _needing_ to satisfy this burning urge that had once again taken hold of him. In his haste, Sam unwittingly sends Dean on a turbulent and nauseating ride as the tiny hunter is tugged and squeezed and pulled this way and that by the motions of Sam’s ass.  
Finally reaching the motel room, Sam moves to scoop his shrunken brother out of his pocket. “Alright, Dean, we’re back, you can-” His words stutter to a stop when his hand meets nothing but a gaping hole in the bottom of the pocket. “Dean?” Sam questions, a rising sense of dread and panic beginning to overtake the youngest Winchester. “ _Dean_?!”  
Sam’s hands are a flurry as they sweep over the rest of his pockets and even just overall his body, desperately hoping to come across his tiny shrunken brother because _oh no, oh no, oh God no, Sam lost_ _Dean, Sam_ lost _his tiny vulnerable shrunken brother, and,_ shit _, he could be literally_ anywhere _, and what if, what if-_  
For some reason, that persistent wriggling against Sam’s hole, which the younger brother had been convinced was nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him, intensified into a relentless squirm against his body. While everything else in him threatened to crumble under the thought of having _lost Dean_ , a separated side of Sam focused and analyzed what could be causing the sensation. The moment it clicked, Sam froze.  
An involuntary thrilled shiver went up Sammy’s spine, and his ass clenched, stilling the writhes. Forcing his body to relax, Sam took a breath. “Dean?” Sam half-whispers, voice faltering at the situation at hand.  
For a moment nothing happened, and Sam thought that he might have been mistaken, but then he felt it; the struggles returned against his asshole, and Sam’s eyes widened as the reality of the situation struck him. Dean, his miniaturized brother, was in his ass, or as close as he could be without actually being inside of his little brother.  
“ _Shit_ , Dean, how did you get down there and _ohmygod_ were you there when I- _ummm_ , you know,” Sam coughed unconvincingly, “anyways, don’t worry, I’m gonna get you out of there right now, Dean, just give me a second and-”  
But before Sam could so much as drop his pants, the motel door opens and John Winchester stalked through, glancing appraisingly over the room till his hard eyes landed on Sam. With a gulp, Sam’s hands drop from his pants to his side. Even Dean has stopped moving around, seeming to sense the shift in atmosphere.  
“Sam.” His father greets.  
“Sir.” Sam returns.  
The youngest Winchester cannot believe that he forgot today was the day that his Dad was due home. Looks like Dean’s just gonna have to hang out where he is for a while longer till Sam can get away from his father, who already seems to have a questioning, suspicious look brewing on his face at the absence of the older brother.

[ ](http://shrinkynatural.tumblr.com/post/144417539354)

[shrinkynatural](http://shrinkynatural.tumblr.com/post/144417539354)

“Dean’s out getting milk!” Sam blurts with an unconscious clench of his asscheeks. To his credit Dean barely moves in reaction, like doing so would somehow draw their father’s attention to him. “We ran out but we still have cereal and I wanted to have some for breakfast tomorrow.”

He’s never been the greatest liar, but John just nods and holds up a take-away bag before setting it on the table. “Dinner’s there, but I want you to clean this room up first, understand? This place looks like a sty; I didn’t raise you two to be pigs.”

Sam bit his lip and looked toward the bathroom. If he could just excuse himself for a second–

“Sam!” John was frowning now. “Clean the room. Then eat. Got it? Anything else can wait.”

“Yes, sir,” he replies quickly. As John sits at the table and starts to pull out the food containers, Sam hurries around the room. There’s not a lot of trash, really, it’s mostly clothes and textbooks and school supplies. Dean’s been tiny for a few days now and yeah, Sam’s definitely been slacking on the chores. He kind of remembers Dean yelling at him about that…but he’d just put Dean on the far end of one bed and went to the other so he couldn’t hear his brother’s complaining.

He’s regretting that now though, feeling his underwear pull tight over his ass every time he bends over or crouches down to get something. The tingle of Dean being pushed up against his hole is nearly constant, but nothing kills a boner like having your dad in the room watching your every move.

While he’s getting the last of his mess cleaned up, he starts giving his leg a quick shake. He doesn’t want to sit down at the table with Dean still stuck where he is! If he can just…knock him loose, Dean could slide down his pantleg and he can show him to John that way. Sam even tries to pick at the seat of his pants like he has a wedgie. He’ll be in trouble for not telling him right away, but anything’s better than pulling his older brother out of his boxers!

Meanwhile, Dean isn’t liking that shaking at _all_. It’s already been a rough ride while Sam was cleaning, but this is like an all-out assault! He’s being thrown back into Sam’s underwear and being launched right up against his hole again and again. What the hell is that kid up to! It’s when a massive pressure shoves him deep into Sam’s crack and then _pinches_ him that Dean realizes. Sam’s trying to shake him out! Is he nuts? Dean doesn’t want their dad to see him like this, covered in his brother’s dried sweat and spunk! He knows he’ll be the one in trouble even if he is only two inches tall.

Dean tries to get a hold on Sam’s boxers but it isn’t easy. His world is a constant earthquake and it’s too dark to see which way is up.

[ ](http://pocketable-spn.tumblr.com/post/144432954980)

[pocketable-spn](http://pocketable-spn.tumblr.com/post/144432954980)

Neither one of the brothers had anticipated what came next. Having quite exactly the opposite intended result, all of Sam’s pushing and pinching accidently shoved Dean partially inside of Sam’s hole. A jolt of shock went through Sam’s system at the return of Dean’s tiny aggravated struggles, only this time they came from both inside and against his ass.  
Dean himself was having one of the worst experiences of his life. He was literally up to his waist inside of his little brother’s asshole after having been unforgivingly forced inside by Sam’s careless movements. Luckily, (if you could consider anything about this entire situation lucky) it was the shrunken man’s lower body that was trapped, so he was free to squirm and push against the wrinkled skin for what little good it did him. Sam’s muscles were clenched tight around him, either in surprise or in reaction of Dean’s movements, quite possibly both. But no matter how much he tried to crawl and kick his way out, Dean was unable to free himself.  
When Sam stayed completely still, his mind unable to fully comprehend what had just happened and how horribly wrong his attempts to free Dean had gone, John grew tired of waiting for his son. “What are you doing, boy? March your ass over here and eat.” The Winchester patriarch ordered, not in the mood for his youngest’s antics.  
Still in a haze, the younger brother turned, numbly walking over to the table, feeling the way Dean’s small body shifted and tugged at his hole every step of the way. Upon reaching the table, Sam hesitated, not wanting to sit down for obvious reasons, only for his father to take his arm and roughly pull him onto the intolerant hard wood chair beside him. As the young hunter’s ass connected with the solid seat, the force and pressure of the giant’s tumble forced Dean the rest of the way up inside of his brother.  
A startled yelp wretched its way from Sam’s throat, causing John to stare questioningly at his son while sliding over a share of the fast food. Not wanting to draw anymore unwanted attention to himself, Sam took what was offered. Staring wide eyed into space, mechanically eating without registering the taste, Sam’s mind was completely centered upon his brother’s movements within him, the growing horror need to get Dean out becoming harder to ignore as each second passed.

[ ](http://shrinkynatural.tumblr.com/post/144472929919)

[shrinkynatural](http://shrinkynatural.tumblr.com/post/144472929919)

It’s absolute torture, and while Dean knows that he’s basically indestructible there’s a part of him that wonders if this will be what finally does him in. To Sam’s credit he tries to stay still and relaxed but the second Dean moves Sam’s reflexes clamp those muscles down on him and squeeze him into submission. It’s only for a second but every time it wears Dean out a little more. It’s dark and it smells and it’s so tight he can barely breathe–not that he really wants to.

Sam eats in silence, choking down every bite as quickly as he can without being obvious. The food sits like lead in his twisting stomach but he finishes it without being sick. He’s up in a flash, sending a silent apology to his brother for the torture he knows it puts Dean through as he darts into the bathroom and locks the door behind him.

“Get a shower while you’re in there!” John yells through the door. “I want to leave first thing in the morning and I don’t want any delays.”

“All right!” Sam calls back distractedly, stripping off his clothes. He can do this. People stretch themselves out WAY more to get fucked, right? It’ll be fine.

With a shakey breath he reaches behind him and presses his index finger to his asshole, whimpering when he doesn’t feel even a little bit of his brother sticking out. “I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry,” he babbles quietly. “I’m going to try to reach you. If you can, grab my finger.”

It hurts. This isn’t something he’s tried before and his hole stays stubbornly tight, but after a few prods and some accidental clenches he manages to get the tip of his finger inside. He wiggles it back and forth and feels it just barely brush against Dean and his heart soars.

“There! Grab it and I can pull you out!”

For his part, Dean tries. He somehow gets his arms over his head and he can touch the tip of Sam’s finger, but it’s impossible for him to get a solid grip on it. It’s just too big for his tiny hands and he’s so tired from being squeezed and tossed around. He tries digging his nails into the skin but when Sam slowly pulls his finger away he gets left behind. He tries squirming free again, kicking and elbowing the walls around him even as they squeeze him.

Sam bites his lip to hold back a sob when his finger comes away without Dean. He’s in there and Sam can’t get to him. It’s too tight a fit in there and he can’t relax himself enough to loosen up.

The idea hits him and he starts opening the little drawers under the sink. His brother has lube, he found it the other day. A little of that and he should be able to get his finger all the way in and drag his brother out. It’s a fool proof plan!

[ ](https://pocketable-spn.tumblr.com/post/144629123040/shrinkynatural-pocketable-spn)

[pocketable-spn](https://pocketable-spn.tumblr.com/post/144629123040/shrinkynatural-pocketable-spn)

Cold and tacky, Sam shivered at the slippery feel of lube against his virgin hole. _You can do this, Sam_ , _you can do this,_ the teen thought to himself, _how hard can this be? You kill monsters on a regular basis, this should be nothing!_  
But regardless of the youngest Winchester’s logic, his ass remained stubbornly clenched, blocking all access to Sam’s shrunken brother and only squeezing poor, shrunken Dean tighter, a thought and feeling which sent involuntary tingles up and down Sam’s spine.  
If Sam was gonna do this, he needed to relax, and soon; John may not be the most attentive father, but he was anything but oblivious when it came to his sons being up to something they didn’t want him to know about, and this was _definitely_ something neither of the brothers wanted their dad to know about.  
Unfortunately, only one particular method of relieving stress came to mind, and though Sam was entirely uncomfortable with doing so, he wasn’t about to leave Dean down there any longer than he had to.  
So, with a tentative hand, Sam began to masturbate using his free hand with conscientiously slow, careful tugs. The little brother has the mind to make use of the lube in a stroke a brilliance. Before long, Sam manages to fall into some resemblance of a rhythm, body loosening up even as arousal floods his veins.  
It takes Dean a minute to realize what’s going on as Sam’s body heat rises and the fleshy walls around his tiny body begin to tremble, his kid brother’s breathes becoming quicker, shallower. When it hits him, Dean squawks indignantly, flailing his already tired body about in protest, resisting when Sam’s ass pulsed in reaction.  
Sam was _masturbating_ , with full knowledge that Dean, his big _brother_ , was stuck up his lily white ass! What the Hell?! Priorities, Sam! Yet even as Dean vowed to kick Sammy’s perky butt as soon as he was out of it, the hunter couldn’t help but blush as a warm, pleasureful feeling pooled in his stomach, despite how messed up this all was.  
Meanwhile, Sam snapped out of his pleasure filled haze and back to the task at hand. Prodding his tight back entrance with a finger, Sam was elated when his finger slid inside far easier this time. His face was caught between both a grin at finally making some progress towards rescuing Dean and a grimace at the foreign and still slightly painful sensation of forcefully stretching his rectal muscles.  
Sam sunk the appendage in further, wriggling it towards his brother’s small form. Just when Sam thought he was going to be able to hook and pull Dean out, his stupid, too big finger only pushed his brother further in than pulling him out. A twinge of panic burst through Sam’s system, as the thought of not being able to save Dean ran across his mind. Heart racing, the next attempt only shoved Dean in even further, and now they were both freaking out, if Dean’s returned wriggles were anything to go by.  
Taking a shaky breath, Sam pulled his finger out, trying to get a grip; panicking wouldn’t save Dean, it’d only make this whole thing worse. What Sam needed was a better grip.  
Determined to not let his big brother down, Sam lubed two fingers this time, pushing relentlessly at his hole, ignoring the stinging burn, till both of them sunk home. Sam definitely did not whimper as he scissored his fingers and inched them forward at a painstakingly slow pace. Once they brushed up against Dean, who wriggled joyfully at the prospect of salvation, the teen moved them closer to securely hook around the tiny body together, and gently managed to pull his brother out of his ass.  
For a moment, the two stayed in silent thankfulness. Dean gulped in deep gasps of the fresh, clean air, taking in the giant landscape and brother with a new sense of appreciation. Sam stared down at his tiny brother, relieved beyond words that Dean, though obviously worn out and slightly filthy, was still in one piece.  
“Sam! You’ve been in there for ten minutes, and I still haven’t heard that shower turn on. Get your ass in gear, boy,” John Winchester called from the other side of the door, causing both Sam and Dean to jump where they stood.  
“Yes, sir,” Sam answered, quickly moving forward to turn on the handles and step into the shower, bringing Dean with him, cause the shrunken guy really needed to wash off before they showed their latest little problem.


	24. Tiny Charlie Drabble

Let’s take this baby all the way back to LARP and the Real Girl. In this version, she wasn’t only kidnapped by the evil-doer, but also shrunken down to action figure size to make sure that’s the firey little red head is easier to handle.   
So, when the bros show up, ready to save the day and their female friend, they end up with more (or less, lolz) than they had initially bargained for.   
Dean creeps towards a wide eyed Charlie, hands held out in peace and voice low and soft and soothing as he tries to keep the miniature Queen of the Nerds from having a full blow freak out.   
Charlie would want to run, everything in her would be  _screaming_ for her to do so, but she’d be frozen in place under the gaze of the giant before her; half hysterical thoughts of Jack and the Beanstalk and all those Littles books she read as a kid would flash before her eyes as a giant hand reached for her.   
Completely oblivious to just how much his presence was terrifying his tiny friend, Dean would scoop the girl up ever so carefully, cradling her shivering form in his large, warm hands.   
Not quite being able to fully process what is actually happening, Charlie would remember the small blade she kept at her side ever since this whole mess started and, summoning the bravery that Bilbo had when facing Smog, would stab at the hand holding her.   
On instinct, Dean would drop her, but Sam, who’s been hovering the entire time, manages to catch her before she can hit the ground.   
Charlie’s about 0.5 seconds away from hyperventilating right now, but Sam brings her up to his face, holding her at eye level, and gives her the highest level puppy dog eyes he can manage.   
It is the pureness of that sad, innocent stare that Charlie would recognize any day as the one belonging solely to Sam Winchester, the reality of what had happened would start to sink in. Clearing her throat as embarrassment flooded her cheeks, brushing her bangs out of her face, Charlie would hesitantly meet Sam’s eyes, and then turn and do the same to Dean.   
“How you doing, Thumbelina?” Dean questions in a quiet voice, not holding the small cut against her; God knows that he would’ve probably reacted the same way, if not worse, given her situation.   
That draws a small chuckle from Charlie as she wrings her tiny hands together. “Could be better, Gigantor,” she tosses back.   
“Don’t worry, Charlie, we’ll get you back to normal in no time.” The rumble of Sam’s voice almost imperceptivity shook the platform his hands created, but Charlie couldn’t help but notice anyway. Notice just how weak it made her feel, how completely insignificant.   
Still, she put up a brave face for her favorite guys. “Of course you will. You’re the Winchester bros, who else’s hands would I rather put my life in than yours?”   
Yeah, things are most definitely not okay right now in the kingdom of Moondor, but they would be soon with Sam and Dean on the case. That thought in mind, Charlie found herself smiling up at her giant guardians, far more grateful to them than her words will ever be able to express. How lucky can a gal get to have these dorks as her family?   
Plus, that one hot fairy could be a tiny one instead of human-sized; that way Charlie can still get her kiss.


	25. Prank War Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What if, after all the pranks, all the being purposefully stepped on and sat on, the tables finally turn? Cas is normal again, the brothers are tiny, and a certain humiliated angel is looking for revenge...

“He looks fine to me,” Dean groused from their viewpoint on the floor.   
A swift smack to the back of the head had the shrunken hunter sending a nasty glare in the direction of his equally miniaturized little brother. “Come on, Dean, that’s anything but fine. The guy looks miserable, and you know it.”   
With a sigh, Dean’s green eyes roamed back up to the form towering above them. Cas was sitting at a table in the Bunker’s main hall, a look of abject misery painted on his face. The comparative giant mopily traced circles on the wooden surface before him, completely ignorant of his tiny observers.   
If he was being honest with himself, Dean knew that it was their fault that the angel was feeling so down. But doing that would take responsibility and all that jazz, while Dean would much rather spend his day in blissful ignorance.   
“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Sam.” Turning to leave, the small man was stopped short just before he could make his escape as Sam grabbed and forcefully dragged him towards the oblivious colossus. Furiously breaking free of his brother’s grip, Dean jerked his jacket forcefully back into place.   
“Dean, you know that we’re the reason why Cas is sad. If we had just gone along with the whole prank thing, everything would be fine, but we didn’t and now he’s upset. We need to fix this.”   
Sam was right, and Dean knew it. For weeks the brothers had used the shrunken angel to prank one another in increasingly creative and debatably cruel ways. It was only a couple of days ago that both of the Winchester brothers had woken up to find that Cas had regained his height, only for them to become the bite-sized ones.   
At first the guys hadn’t gotten too worked up over it, seeing as they had the same invulnerability that the angel had attained under the spell. It wasn’t until later that the guys realized Cas saw this as the perfect opportunity to get payback for the Hell both Sam and Dean had put him through. Really, it’s too bad that poor Cas is just completely clueless in the matter of practical jokes.   
Being the adorkable angel that he is, Cas believed that the very first prank he thought up was extremely clever, and eagerly followed through with it. Promising Dean a giant slice of apple pie, the thought of which had Dean’s mouth watering even now, Cas promptly returned with the heated dessert. Only, when Dean went to eat it, he quickly found it to be cherry pie, not apple. The tiny man had shrugged, not one to turn down any type of pie, especially when it was bigger than he was, and quickly rushed forward to enjoy the upsides of being shrunken.   
Sam was the one to notice a very pleased looking Castiel sitting off to the side, watching Dean devour the ridiculously huge fruit confection. Approaching the hovering giant, a quick questioning revealed Cas’s supposedly ingenious revenge as the mountainous angel brags about having “totally got them” and that “this was the best revenge ever” and it was all just kinda sad. Unable to let his friend not actually achieve the payback that Sam guiltily acknowledged he more than deserved, the small hunter patted the large knuckle before him, saying “Nah, Cas, you can do better than that. Come on, go try again, you’ll get us next time, buddy.”   
The next attempt didn’t pan out much better than the first. Cas set the shrunken brothers atop a high shelf that they couldn’t climb down from, thinking this to be adequate revenge. It might have been half-way decent if the angel hadn’t been so concerned over the tiny Winchester’s wellbeing, basically becoming a giant servant by getting them food and drink as per request. Castiel went so far as to leave them with a phone just so that they wouldn’t get too bored and could call the angel if they needed him.   
It actually took a while for the brothers to figure out what was happening, only after much confusion. “What are you doing? Why are we up here?” “Wait. Is this supposed to be a prank?” Cas has had finer moments.   
That brings them back to present time, where, after the failed attempts, Cas was sitting alone, pretty crushed by his failed plans and feeling discouraged from trying again. The sight of his friend so crestfallen, especially when it stemmed from his and his brother’s really dickish treatment of the angel, didn’t settle well in Dean’s chest. Though he’d love to ignore that deep-seated sensation of guilt, Sam seemed determined to not let him.   
“Ugh, fine! But only so that Gigantor doesn’t keep trying to lame-revenge-prank us; it’s getting sad.” Dean may have reluctantly surrendered, but that doesn’t mean he had to be happy about it. “What’ve you got planned?”   
“I figured that if we just told Cas that his last prank actually was really great and clever, that he might just call it good.” Sam shrugged.   
Dean shot a skeptical look at his younger brother. “Really? That’s it? Do you really think that would work?”   
“It’s worth a try, right?”   
Rolling his candy-apple green eyes, the eldest Winchester started crossing the stretching length of floor between them and their colossal friend, equally shrunken brother by his side. “Alright, whatever.”   
Upon reaching the giant’s shoes, the indestructible tinies quickly clambered atop the footwear without a hint of hesitance when Cas didn’t recognize their calls up to him, far too lost in his own thoughts to be on awares for miniature Winchesters.   
Far above the hunters, Castiel dejectedly reached for a nearby glass of water. Not even actually thirsty, the angel really isn’t paying much attention at all to what he’s doing and ends up knocking over the cup, sending the water spilling over the edge of the table and right onto his shoes below. Not even bothering to look down at his now soaking shoes, Cas distractedly slips off the footwear, methodically grabbing the shoes and then dismally rising to his feet and shuffling off down the hall.   
The sudden and unexpected flood of water had taken both of the brothers by surprise, the force of the cascade slamming their tiny bodies down against the top of the shoe. By the time they managed to regain their senses, a large shadow enveloped them a split second before huge, strong fingers pinned their shrunken forms against the soaked, rough fabric of the tennis shoe. Any and all struggles and calls went completely unnoticed by the giant who unknowingly held the Winchesters in his grasp.   
One pitiful traipse through the Bunker later, the angel arrived at the laundry room. Castiel paused for a moment, mind listlessly pondering whether Dean or Sam had mentioned anything against using this particular Men of Letter’s mechanism. He shrugged dejectedly when nothing came to mind.   
A squeaking groan came from the protesting hinges as Cas opened the machine’s door. Tossing the shoes inside the metal contraption carelessly, the angel fiddled with the dials and knobs and buttons till the device spurred to life with an unhappy whir. As Castiel wandered off, thoughts dolefully dwelling on his failure as a trickster, he failed to hear the tiny pleas for help over the rumbling of the ancient dryer.   
Sam stared helplessly through the glass door of the dryer as Dean furiously kicked and shouted and raged against the immovable barrier. Bending his knees and shifting his weight, the younger Winchester managed to maintain his balance as the machine rumbled to life. Knowing that it was too late for Dean to get Cas’s attention, Sam turned his gaze to wearily eye-up the two truck-sized tennis shoes that occupied this quickly heating swirly machine of doom with them.   
The very first spin wasn’t so bad. Sam and Dean managed to keep pace with the moving floor beneath them. It’s too bad that the space rapidly reached broiling temperature; slowing their movements and clouding their vision with sweat.   
It’s all over when the shoes hit them.   
Sam gets clipped, and is sent flying into the metal walls. The speed has risen so that he’s pinned there to the scorching surface till it reaches the apex of its rounds, whereupon the shrunken man is sent flying and ricocheting in an endless cycle of heat, painful collisions, and unceasing dizziness.   
Dean, for better or for worse, managed to make it inside of one of the shoes. Bracing his tiny form against the interior walls of the shoe, the hunter shut his eyes tight as the shoe violently spun and banged around the dryer, the humidity of the water drying in it making it even harder for him to fight against his rising nausea.   
An hour of this torture passes before an obnoxiously loud noise rings through the air, signaling the end of the dryer cycle. The rotating interior slows to a halt, and the unbearable heat gradually fades away to something less sweltering.   
“Dean?” Comes the weak call of Sam.   
The younger man lifts his head from the floor, looking around dazedly for any sign of his brother, his long brown hair sticking out in all directions imaginable. Upon hearing a miserable groan coming from one of the now-dry shoes, Sam makes his way towards the footwear on unsteady legs.   
“Dean?” He asks again, peering into the shadowy depths of the tennis shoe. His tiny nose wrinkles as the distinct sound of retching comes from the dark place, the acidic smell of vomit wafting out alongside it.   
When Dean managed to stumble his way out of the shoe, his miniature face was still tinged green. Sam moved forward to catch his brother when the older stumbled, only for them to jump apart with a yelp, having been shocked by their shared accumulation of static electricity.   
“Dude,” Dean manages, giving up altogether on standing and dropping down to sit on the metal flooring, “Cas totally got us back.”   
Sam chuckled lightly. “Yeah, he really did.”


	26. "Hey there, little guy."

It’s Castiel’s first solo hunt since becoming human. The Winchester brothers had been training him for this moment for months, and he only just managed to attain their A-Okay for this case. It should be nothing out of the ordinary; just some run-of-the-mill witch terrorizing a small town. He can handle this, right? Cas had once been an angel of the Lord, after all.   
But that doesn’t mean that the man isn’t nervous. A sense of foreboding has shadowed Cas throughout this entire hunt, and, even as he simply followed the trail left behind by the witch, the former angel just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that this was all too easy. And now, as he stood upon the groaning and splintering wooden porch of a supposedly abandoned house on the outskirts of town, the novice hunter tensely shifted his grip on the pistol in hand, a nervous anxiety washing over him as he looked upon the decaying door.   
Reaching forward, Cas uneasily nudged the rotted wood, cringing as the door creaked noisily on its rusted hinges while swinging open. The man squinted his gaze, trying to perceive any hints of danger through the musty shadows that coalesced in the witch’s abode, wishing not for the first time that he had retained his angelic senses. When his narrowed eyes found nothing particularly menacing, Castiel steadied himself and stepped forward into the house- and right into the path of the witch’s spell.   
The pure force of the magic alone threw Cas off his feet and through the air. Anguish enveloped the man as he seemed to fall for forever, till he hit the ground with a thud. His momentum caused his body to roll until he finally settled on his back, a suffering groan drawn from Cas’s lips.   
An all-encompassing laugh, a sound so big that it was difficult for Castiel to recognize it as nothing more than a harsh chuckle, brought the man out from his pain-induced haze. Opening his cerulean eyes, Cas found himself looking up at a ginormous figure hovering above him, a sinister glint in the giant’s haughty gaze.   
“Hey there, little guy.” The woman’s voice rang out menacingly, a taunting lilt to her enormous demeanor as she smirked down at the tiny figure lying beneath her.   
The former angel flinched at the overwhelming presence he was faced with, scrambling to his feet as blood roared in his ears and his mind stuttered to a stop. This- this was impossible! How could anything so recognizably human be so huge? It’s too much, she’s so  _huge_ -   
_No, stop, panicking won’t help. Take a breath and focus, man. Think, Cas, think_ , a voice strangely similar to Dean’s rang through the former angel’s mind, and he struggled to force his mind to process this sudden turn of events.   
This is the witch that Cas had been hunting, she must be, but that offered no reason as to why she was towering above him like a colossuses of the old world.   
Even as Castiel’s mind raced, the giant licked her blood red lips, causing any and all resemblance of mental composure to fly out the window as the sudden and terrifying thought of this being eating him overwhelmed the reeling Cas.   
His confusion and fright made the untried hunter clumsy, and Castiel’s feet tripped over themselves in the man’s hasty attempt at a backwards retreat.   
This time, however, as Cas lay there on his back, he noticed not only the looming figure kneeling above, but also his surroundings as well. As he took in the over-sized surroundings, how the rest of the world was correctly proportioned but him, understanding ran Castiel over like a speeding truck.   
Cas was shrunk.   
For a moment, hysterical laughter almost overtook him; not only had Castiel died multiple times for the Winchesters, lost his grace and become human, but now he couldn’t be more than half a foot tall. What would the brothers think of him now?   
But, he was brought back from the brink by a sharp pain in his side when the witch carelessly poked at him with a giant, manicured finger. She seemed amused by his sharp gasp as she prodded cracked, if not broken ribs from the tiny person’s fall earlier.   
“When I first found out that a hunter was on my trail, I’ll admit, I was a little worried. But when I discovered that you were nothing more than a graceless cherub who’d lost his wings, I realized that I might actually be able to have some fun. How does being my little pet sound, huh, Mouse? Bet we can-”   
“The Winchesters will come for me.” Castiel was proud of how strong his voice was, even if his hands were shaking as he stood once more. “They’ll come, and they’ll hunt you.”   
Cas’s words, erupted in imprudent defiance, halted the witch’s speech. For a moment, her brow furrowed, a worried look passing over her eyes, before it was replaced with an at-ease front.   
“I didn’t know that you were the Winchester’s fallen angel, Mouse. Unfortunately, that changes things.” Contrast to the slight smile playing across her lips, the witch’s words were icy. Castiel could hit himself for the unthinking brashness of his outburst. “It’s too bad, really. I was looking forward to a new toy. Oh well.”   
Diving out of the way of the giant woman’s grasping fingers, Cas rolled to a crouching stance, despite the protests of his bruised form. Breathing heavily, the former angel readied himself for the witch’s next move, knowing that he couldn’t evade a foe so large for long. It was then that a flash of light in the corner of his eye caught the small man’s attention.   
Sprinting forward, the shrunken hunter ran towards what could be his only hope at salvation. Right as Castiel’s hands closed around the reassuring metal grip, his entire body was encircled by the witch’s unforgiving fist, save for his arms and head.   
Nausea stirred sickeningly in Castiel’s stomach as the hand holding him captive raised him to the witch’s eye level, which was frighteningly high even in her current crouched position. And, as the tiny hunter stared into those dark orbs, Cas knew that nothing he said would dissuade the witch from killing his.    
So, just as the grip around Cas began to tighten to the point of pain, the shrunken man raised his arm and fired his loaded gun. The former angel hadn’t realized that the weapon had been miniaturized along with him until he noticed it on the floor. Castiel cringed at the loud sound of the gunshots and the consecutive ear-splitting screams that followed as the witch shrieked in agony. Cas found himself plummeting through the air, once again, when the woman’s hand dropped him to clutch at her gushing eye.   
Luckily enough, the fall didn’t kill him, but the giant still might yet.   
Blinded in one eye, the colossus stumbled to a stand, her footsteps falling dangerously close to Castiel even as the witch staggered where she stood. Her voice rang out through the air, pained and enraged as she raised a bloodied hand to point at Cas’s small form. “You’ll burn for that, you worthless pest!”   
The witch was done toying with him. She snatched Cas up from the ground without any trouble, and the former angel knew that this was the end … until the Winchester brothers burst into the house, armed to the teeth with guns and knives and righteous fury.   
Castiel had never been so simultaneously grateful and annoyed and terrified of seeing Sam and Dean in his life. Words could not express his relief at this timely rescue mission, but a twinge of irritation shot through his tiny body all the same; they had promised to allow Cas to hunt this witch on his own without aid or supervision. But, honestly, the novice hunter couldn’t fault them too much, seeing how this solo hunt had turned out. And the intimidating strength and stature that naturally resonated from both of the Winchesters was now experienced tenfold at Cas’s newly shrunken height, even though he knew that none of their anger was directed at him.   
The room fell silent as the witch stared down the brothers and the brothers stared down the witch in return. “What’ve you done with Cas, you bitch,” Dean growled menacingly, gun steadily trained on her.   
Cas’s heart sunk as he realized that the brothers hadn’t noticed him, but before he could call out, the woman roughly squeezed him as a warning to stay silent. “If you let me go,” she began, voice smooth as honey as full of lies, “I’ll tell you where he is.”   
“How about you tell us where he is, and we won’t make this hurt.” Sam said, even as his eyes wandered; searching for some clue as to what the witch had done to Cas.   
When the tall hunter’s gaze fell upon the tiny form wriggling in the woman’s grasp, half-hidden behind her back, Sam’s hazel eyes widened in shock and realization. Seeing this and knowing that she’d lost her chance at bartering her way out of here, the witch flung the hand holding Cas out to the side, throwing the tiny man across the room even as she turned to flee.   
Time seemed to slow down to a crawl for Castiel. One moment he was held tight in the witch’s fist, staring up at Sam, and the next he was flying through the air. He faintly registered Dean’s gun firing shots and the witch collapsing as the ground rose up to meet him.   
Sam, for his part, made a mad sprint across the room, leaping madly into the air with outstretched hands as he tracked the tiny body’s flight. The second a warm, small person came in contact with his hands, Sam curled his fingers loosely around the figure as he landed harshly on the solid ground, throat tightening as he felt his miniature friend bounce against the sides of his curled palms.   
It wasn’t until Dean had kneeled down by his side that the younger brother looked away from his still enclosed hands to the puzzled look on his brother’s face. Swallowing harshly, Sam opened his hands to see what fate had fallen upon Castiel, only to breathe a sigh of relief while Dean gasped in surprise.   
“Cas?!” The blond thundered, only to lower his voice at the former angel’s visible wince. “Cas, buddy, what the Hell happened? You’re friggin’ tiny!”   
Crouching down to get a closer look, Dean received a sharp elbow to the side from Sam for hovering over Cas. “Cas, are you okay?” Sam asked, still sprawled out across the floor, not wanting to move and upset the shrunken man any more than this entire scenario must already be.   
“Is she dead?” Cas asked, looking up at the two giants. “The witch, is she dead?”   
“Yup. Ganked her myself.” Dean said resolutely with a firm nod.   
“Good,” Cas replied, before collapsing back into the curl of Sam’s fingers. He wouldn’t be going on another solo hunts any time in the near future.


	27. Mystery Spot AU

My idea is a G/t parody of the Mystery Spot episode; all of the deaths still happen, except Dean’s also been shrunk the whole time. That might not sound that bad, just reading it, but as soon as you delve into the idea, it’s truly horrible.  
Instead of Sam waking up to a perky “Rise and shine, Sammy!” it’s always to a tiny, terrified scream.  
The first Tuesday, Sam looks over towards Dean’s bed, only to witness a miniature person falling off the side of the bed and plummeting to their death. The tiny form lands with an equally small, but in no way less sickening, crunch as it collides with the stained motel floor. The youngest Winchester slips out of bed to get a closer look, morbid curiosity urging him forward, only to realize with a wave of nausea and horror that the tiny person lying sprawled on the dingy carpet is no one other than his own brother. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up once again in the same bed to the same song on the radio and the same tiny scream, except this time, the floppy haired hunter is screaming as well.  
It takes another two resets for Sam to jump out of bed in time to stop Dean from tumbling over the edge, but now the shrunken guy is stumbling away from Sam and staring up at the younger brother like Sam’s a monster.  
Think of Sam trying to catch Dean but gripping him too tight and crushing his brother, feeling those tiny bones snap under his grip like twigs.  
Sam managing to catch Dean, only for the little guy to leap from his hands from pure panic and desperation, right to his death.  
Sam finally managing to calm Dean down enough for the big bro to realize what happened, only for a bajillion other things to go fatally wrong.  
Some insect or rat attacking Dean while Sam is across the room getting dressed.  
They actually make it outside and Dean gets taken by a bird. That timeline doesn’t reset for about 5-10 minutes. Sam spends the entire time frantically searching for his brother, knowing that Dean is helpless without him, and he wakes up with tears already stinging his eyes.  
They finally get to the diner and while Sam is distracted by being horribly traumatized by the last few deaths, Dean sneaks onto his plate to grab some food, only for Sam to reach down without looking and pop Dean into his mouth. Sam’s too lost in his own head to hear the little guy’s cries for help or feel his squirms, and he swallows. The next couple of minutes are spent with an upset stomach and Sam looking for Dean once he realizes that he’s missing. When his stomach’s grumbles suddenly settle down, Sam realizes what happened, and he spends the last few seconds of that timeline retching horribly.  
Sam walking down the street with Dean in his pocket, only for that chick with the fliers to bump into him and crush Dean.  
The dog.  
Sam tripping.  
Dean accidently getting misplaced and Sam doesn’t realize it till the timeline resets again.  
That one shady guy who robs people manages to pick Sam’s pockets, but it’s the one holding Dean. You can finish that one.  
Dean actually chokes on his breakfast like in the show, but this time he’s just too small to perform the Heimlich on, so he dies with Sam hovering uselessly above his suffocating form, wanting to help but not knowing how to do so for a person that’s just so small. The next time that happens, Sam tries anyways, but only succeeds in killing Dean himself by accident. Sam doesn’t like touching Dean after that.  
Sam wakes up crying, which causes Dean to pause before he can take his freefall off the bed, and look over and figure everything out, but Sam can’t bring himself to look at Dean. So, the little guy manages to not kill himself while climbing over to Sam’s bed and scrambles up onto his chest, comforting his sobbing big little brother. It’s not until later, after Sam’s calm and Dean’s covered in his tears from comforting him, that Dean requests a shower, only to get swept down the drain because Sam’s mind is to stressed to even stop and think about things logically now.


	28. Sabriel RP

So, there Sam was, minding his own business, doing nothing out of the ordinary. It was Dean’s turn to grab some breakfast, so he’d already left the Bunker a few minutes ago while Sam got ready for the day. As the youngest Winchester left the bathroom, still toweling off any wetness still lingering on his body from the shower.  
Gabriel was excited-no ecstatic. The fighting was mostly over. His brother thought he was dead (again) and he felt safe enough to creep out of the shadows. Of course being a trickster again was out of the question. He’d nearly died the last time for real. No thanks. But bugging the Winchesters? Too good to pass up. He was especially fond of the tall one. Not sure why. Maybe it was because green eyes had clearly been taken by Cas and he wasn’t touching their weird relationship with a ten-foot pole. But Sam? All his. Easily annoyed and equally forgiving. Perfect target. It’s not his fault Sam was naked. Honest. It wasn’t like he was waiting for it. So when Sam shrank down to an inch tall in the bedroom, one really couldn’t blame Gabriel.  
One moment Sam was rifling through his duffle with one hand in search for some clothes, with the other briskly drying his hair via towel when he heard a resounding snap echo through the supposedly empty room. Then it all went to Hell. An overwhelming sense of vertigo crashed over Sam as the entire world blacked out and something large, heavy, and damp pinned him down from above. Hearing the distinct sound of a familiar chuckle, Sam fought his way against the- what is this? Fabric, a blanket? whatever it is it’s huge- till he managed to pull himself out of the last layer. Looking around, he found himself swamped in the middle of … a giant towel? At the sound of movement, Sam looked up. Jaw dropping in a most unflattering manner, the youngest Winchester openly gawked at the towering figure above.  
Gabriel was downright giddy. Watching the gigantic Winchester fighting a towel? He almost lost it right there. A pleased smile was stuck on his face as he watched Sam put things together. “Hey, look at that!” He reached down to pluck Sam out of the towel. “Someone brought you down to size, Sammy.”   
Sam gasped at the sudden and drastic change in altitude, clinging to the thumb pressed not unkindly against his front. As the movements stopped and the archangel’s words clicked, Sam felt a hot, angry flush overtake his newly tiny body. “Gabriel! What the Hell?!” The shrunken hunter shouted indignantly, squirming against the two fingers that held him. It was then that he was suddenly reminded of his lack of clothes as his body took notice of its direct exposure to the warm skin of Gabe’s thumb, and then Sam was blushing for an entirely different reason.  
Gabriel studied Sam for a while with a small smirk. He held on tight to the brother, not wanting a cat and mouse chase… yet. He bared his teeth in a grin. “Now, is that anyway to greet a guy who died for you? I come back to say hi and you’re not even surprised I’m alive?” He tsked and made his way to the bed, swinging his hand lightly back and forth before bouncing on top of it and waiting for him to settle.  
The little guy had to take a moment as that sense of vertigo returned with vengeance from all the movement. Being this small sucked. Using the arm not pinned by the comparative giant’s pinch, Sam brushed his skewed hair out of his face. “Excuse me, but sneaking up on a guy and turning him into Tom Thumb before he can even throw on a pair of pants isn’t exactly the best way to get a warm welcome,” he said with a pointed bitch-face. Then his tone softened slightly, as he regarded the previously presumed dead trickster. “But I am glad that you’re alive, Gabe, just not that you feel the need to mess with me, once again.” As if to prove his point, he squirmed in Gabriel’s lingering hold.  
Gabriel seemed to stop for a moment to glance down at him. His expression was a touch confused, maybe surprised before it was gone and he was putting Sam down on the bed to poke his stomach. “Careful there, Samsquatch. Keep talking like that and people might think you like me.” He snapped, the door locking and the lights dimming before he glanced down at Sam. “Now, if I’m mistaken your big overly protective and clingy brother is out and he might even be having car trouble right now. Guess that leaves us alone.”  
Immediately shifting his stance to help his hands cover his manhood, Sam hoped that the dimmed lights would at least help hide his blushing as it took on a darker shade of red. Surely Gabe wasn’t seriously suggesting that they … that Sam and him … No, of course he wasn’t. This was just Gabe screwing with Sam and screwing around, this meant nothing more to the archangel than any of the pleasure he could get from his mojo-ed up girls, just with the added bonus of getting to play with a new toy. Sam’s anger returned once again, and before he knew what was happening, the tiny hunter found himself marching across the bed up to the stretching being’s form and planting a firm kick in the body part closest to him.  
Gabriel winced as a foot planted right into his chest. "Whoa there, champ.” He scolded and picked him up by his shoulder to lift him near his face. “Not got as much mojo as normal.” He tilted his head a little and flicked his eyes downward. “Looks like your size doesn’t stop at your height, huh?”  
Sam decided to ignore the angel’s antics. Taking any of the trickster’s suggestive words to heart would only end up making Sam look like a fool. “Wait a moment. Let me get this straight; you’re low on Grace right now, and your first action is to waste it on shrinking me? How, in any way at all, did that seem like a good idea to you?” He said, all the while fighting the urge to once again cover himself from Gabriel’s wandering gaze- who was he kidding, those hungry eyes were practically glued to Sam’s crotch. Frickin’ horny archangels.  
Gabriel huffed and dropped Sam down on the pillow. “Hey, maybe I just wanted to say hi. I’ve been out of the game in limbo for what, six years now? I have my special way to say hello.” He pushed Sam down with a finger into the soft pillow. “Besides, my grace will come back. You just gotta wait for it until I can size you up. Until then… I figure you and me could get reacquainted. Maybe have you fill me in on all the fun I’ve missed.” His finger lowered a little to Sam’s stomach.  
Stilling under the pressure of Gabe’s touch, Sam licked his lips at his perpetually vulnerability at this minute height. The hunter didn’t know for sure that Gabriel wouldn’t hurt him- it would be ridiculously easy, all it’d take was just a little more force on the angel’s end- but Sam sure hoped that he wouldn’t. His throat worked as he swallowed harshly, hoping to regain some moisture in his mouth as Sam tried not to get lost in those immense, glinting golden eyes. “What- what type of fun?” Sam asked, silently cursing himself when his voice broke.  
Gabriel halted his finger and tilted his head in a bird like fashion. They warmed up with a bit of excitement. “What kind of fun are you hoping for?” He asked leaning down and looking him over again. “Because we can have a lot of fun, Sammy.” His finger lowered a fraction more. “Did you miss me too?”  
“I- I,” the shrunken man stuttered, shivering at the sensation of Gabriel’s sweet and hot breath brushing against his bare skin. Oh God, this celestial being would be the end of him. Then Sam’s eyes shot wide open in surprised horror; the warm, moist puffs of air coming from Gabe’s smirking mouth were having an unprecedented (but not altogether unwanted) effect on the tiny hunter’s body. _Please, oh please, don’t let Gabe notice!_ Sam fervently prayed, gnawing on the inside of his check while trying to will away the heat steadily pooling in his lower body.  
Gabriel narrowed his eyes a little. Oh, this was just too good. He has Sam right where he wants him. He picks him up again and dumps him in his flat palm. “Well? Did you? Were you thinking about me?”  
To lie, or not to lie? It’d be so easy to deny the countless nights that Sam lay awake, wishing that things had turned out differently and Gabriel hadn’t died for the brothers. To ignore the beautiful, amazing dreams Sam had dreamt of him and the archangel. But, would it be so bad? Would it really be that horrible to just admit to liking the trickster who held him in his hands in this very moment? And even as his heart screamed otherwise, Sam Winchester’s mind told him that this couldn’t be, that this would never truly happen. “No. I didn’t.” Even as the words spilled from his lips, Sam grimaced at the taint they left in his mouth. Looking up at the angel of his dreams, the Winchester hoped that Gabe was low enough on mojo to not be able to sense his lie.  
Gabriel knew. Even low on grace one couldn’t trick him. Especially not a tiny hunter. There was a flash of hurt none the less. He’d been gone for six years and the first thing he had done, low on magic, was to find Sam. “Fine,” he answered bouncing him up and down in his palm. “Let me just leave you someplace fun for your brother to find you and I’ll be on my way. Now let me see. His underwear, maybe? Or a shoe? Oh, what about in his bottle of lube?”  
Even through the extreme disorientation of being thrown into the air repeatedly and the mischievous threats made, Sam still caught that hint of pain edging the trickster’s voice. Gabe wouldn’t be upset if he didn’t actually care whether or not Sam had thought about the archangel, so that must mean that- “Gabriel! Gabe!” The inch-tall man called between every careless bounce against the large, soft hand. “Wait! Just, just hold on a minute!”  
Gabriel closed his fist around him. “Let me see…” He stood up and unlocked the door. “I’m sure it’ll be a blast for my brother and yours.” He was moving through bunker, seeking out Dean’s room.  
Sam’s words were totally muffled by the powerful fingers encasing him, and he struggled violently against them with little effect. Dread filled the shrunken man as the archangel ignored him and he realized that Gabe’s power over him was complete; unless the trickster chose against going through with his shenanigans, there was no way Sam could stop him.  
Gabriel opened his fist. He was sitting on Dean’s bed with a bottle in his free hand. He was smirking again. “You’re gonna have real fun, Sammy.” He responded and snapped it open, giving Sam a dark smile.  
Before Sam could say or do anything more, he found himself being squeezed through the opening by Gabriel’s unyielding fingers. A moment later Sam was soaked and swimming in the translucent, tacky liquid, gasping and spluttering for breath as he swam in place to keep himself above the lube’s surface level. Looking up through the small opening while treading water, the shrunken hunter started to shout out to Gabriel, only to find the lid of the bottle clicking shut above him, completely sealing the tiny man off from the outside world.  
Gabriel sighed as he put the bottle back. He had really wanted to play with him. Well, that’s fine. He taps the top of it. “Have fun, kiddo. I’ll be back for you tonight. Way later tonight. Don’t worry, you won’t be in there long.” There was the sound of wings and Gabriel was gone.  
Sam honestly had no idea how long he’d been left in the bottle of lube, all alone and in the dark. Long enough for his legs and arms to start to tire from holding his head above the top of the liquid, and for the small space not occupied by the fluid to become muggy with Sam’s breathing and shouts and prayers. Any and all escape attempts only led to the lube sloshing back and forth within the bottle alongside Sam, who quickly came to the horrifying conclusion that the only way he was getting out of here was by his brother and Cas, or not at all. He’d drown by the time Gabriel came back, too tired to keep swimming, so the off-handed chance that Dean and Castiel would choose to engage in some R rated activities dictated whether Sam would live or die from this ordeal. That in mind, Sam didn’t know whether to laugh with relief or cry in despair when the drawer was opened and his bottle retrieved, the deep rumbles of his brother’s voice heard outside of the thin plastic containing Sam.  
Castiel glanced around again. He was a bit nervous. “You’re sure this will help my "stress”?“ The angel asked, sitting on Dean’s bed and eyeing the bottle. "I’ve seen humans do it but I’m unsure if it’ll work for me.” Of course anything that involved Dean usually worked for him. He glanced up at the hunter. He could lose himself in those green eyes.  
Dean gave Cas a light, if not slightly dirty, smile. “Yeah, dude, I’m pretty sure that there’s nothing more … stress-relieving than the horizontal tango,” he waggled his eyebrows scandalously. “And where did you see this before? Never mind, don’t answer that, I don’t wanna know. Just, lay down, Cas, this is supposed to be relaxing.” With his free hand, Dean gently guiding Cas down on the bed into position, snapping open the lube bottle with his teeth in a practiced method. “Just take a deep breath, man, and let me take care of you.”  
Cas did as he was told. He was still trying to figure out what he and Dean were but understood this was important. This is what he was waiting for. He let out a deep breath and tried to get himself to relax. He smiled at Dean, deep blue eyes curious. “Do what you need, Dean.”  
Now, Sam wouldn’t say that he was panicking, but Sam was panicking. They couldn’t hear him- he’s starting to suspect that Gabriel could only because he specifically tuned his angelic hearing into Sam’s miniscule vocal chords- and now the bottle was opened and tipping and Sam was spilling out of the opening with a rush of lube right onto Dean’s fingers. The oblivious gigantic older brother didn’t hesitate to continue; lowering his fingers to spread the lube on his- what? Angel with benefits? Boyfriend?- doesn’t matter, what matters is that they’re doing this and they’re doing this now.  
Cas jerked at the cold sensation against his bare cock. He shuddered a little. “The tip seems the most sensitive.” He informed, hoping Dean’s fingers would find their way there. He feels a tingle on it and it feels so good.  
“You ain’t seen nothing yet, Cas,” Dean rumbled, low and husky as he moved his fingers to massage and twist and pull Castiel’s length, all the while continuing to massage the head and slit of Cas’s aching cock with the pad of his thumb. For Sam, this meant that he was being rubbed and rolled and dragged all over the angel’s slit, precome spurting and coating his tiny body even as he struggled to get away.  
Cas let out a soft moan and arched up. He wanted more already. His body twitching and making him feel hot all over. He pushed against Dean’s fingers. “More.”  
Eager to get this show on the road as well, Dean once more reached for the bottle of lube, liberally slicking up Cas once more before reaching down and doing the same to his ass which he had mostly prepared earlier. Rolling his eyes, Dean moved Cas’s hand away from where it had replaced Dean’s on his wanton dick. Moving forward, the eldest Winchester took a moment to relax his muscles before sinking down onto Cas’s throbbing member with a groan to match the angel’s. Poor Sam hadn’t had a moment free of this torture as Castiel had immediately continued Dean’s strokes, only grinding his fingers down against Sam with even more focus and precision than the older brother. When the hand moved away, Sam was right to be suspicious, especially as a shadow enveloped his tiny form balanced atop Cas’s penis. Looking up, Sam could do nothing more than brace himself as his brother’s hole swallowed both him and the angel’s member whole, sending them into slicked, heated, tight darkness.  
Castiel was very eager. He was running that tingling spot right against his slit, seeming determined to get it deeper. His fingers pushed down on Sam, slit yawning open before he moved his fingers away as Dean lowered onto him. “Dean, this feels so good.”  
“I know, baby, this is friggin’ awesome. You’re so damn hot, Cas,” the man panted as he grinded down against the hot, throbbing member inside of himself. Pleasure sparked violently throughout Dean’s body as he felt something almost vibrate against his prostate every time he thrust back down against Cas. Sam was decidedly not enjoying this as much as Dean and Cas were. He was repeatedly being pounded against an over-eager big brother’s prostrate, pinned against the head of Cas’s dick. And, just when he was sure things couldn’t get much worse, the force of Dean’s downward grinding actually managed to press Sam partially down into Cas’s slit, his body stuck inside of the angel’s cock up to his waist.  
Castiel let out a cry of pleasure when he felt something on the actual _inside_ of his cock. He knew humans liked sex but that felt amazing. He began to thrust up harder, wanting to send the unique feeling deeper down. “I don’t wish to stop, Dean.”  
Sam could _feel_ Dean’s response of “Yeah, me neither, Cas,” all around him as the man’s voice vibrated through his own body. With every thrust, the shrunken man was forced deeper and deeper into Cas’s cock till only his head was left outside of the slit, still taking the forceful pushes against his brother’s sweet spot. If the youngest Winchester had thought that it was tight inside of Dean’s ass, he was sorely mistaken; inside of Cas’s cock he was gripped with near-bone shattering strength, the tiny space so tight that he could barely breath. It only took one more powerful grind from Dean before Sam was all the way down inside Castiel’s dick, and Sam couldn’t move an inch, completely helpless and pinned in place by the throbbing, contracting walls around him.  
Castiel let out a moan that would make women in a brothel blush. “Yes, Dean. Right there.” The angel all but ordered as he thrust up harder and with more need. “Hey, Champ.” Gabriel greeted Sam, staring down at him at least a few times smaller than Sam, floating in the air. “How’s it going so far?”  
At this point, Sam well and truly couldn’t breathe, from a combination of the pressure on his lungs and ribcage along with the pure lack of air in such a place as the inside of a dick. The continuous thrusts and pulsing grips abusing his tiny body weren’t helping either. There’s only so much an inch-tall human body can take. The youngest Winchester was pretty sure that he was hallucinating the archangel before him, and, in his hazy state of mind as darkness encroached on the corners of his vision, he breathily mumbled, “Can’t … can’t breathhh, G’be,” even as his lips became tinged with blue and his eyes started to close shut. Past the agony of his oxygen deprived lungs, Sam felt a deep ache inside of his chest where he wished that things had turned out different with Gabriel.  
“Yeah. I know. I came to help.” Gabriel responds and snaps. They’re in Sam’s bedroom again, the younger Winchester cradled in his hands. He didn’t want him hurt, just a bit of vengeance. He put the human to his chest and sighed out. “You’re gonna be pissed at me a while. But who knew those two were such rabbits in there?”  
Sam gasped for air, filling his grateful lungs with the precious O2 that they had been bereft of. The youngest Winchester lay in Gabe’s hand, weak and helpless as a kitten. He was exhausted and slightly crushed and so very scarred for life, but he was also alive. “You’re a dick,” Sam breathed shallowly, “and the reason why I was caught in that entire mess in the first place,” he kicked half-heartedly at the chest beneath him, “but you also came back for me. So thank you.”  
Gabriel chuckled a little and ran his finger down Sam’s spine. “Can’t lose my favorite human. Especially not to those two crazy rabbits.” There was warmth as a touch of healing grace wrapped around Sam. “Interesting perspective thought, right?”  
“Fuck you,” Sam replied bitchily, before sharply looking away. “You know, you really need to work on your listening skills, Gabe.”  
Gabriel just lifted him up and eyed him. “Do I?” He asked before rubbing his finger over Sam’s tiny crotch. “I was ready to listen. I came back. You’re the one who made me stand up to my family. I died. I mean, I lived, but only because something brought me back. And all I wanted to do is find you.”  
A pleasured gasp tore itself from Sam before he could stop it at the feeling of Gabriel’s finger caressing his crotch, but Sam batted at his fingers; this needed to be said. “Yes, Gabe, you do, because that entire time that you were ignoring me before putting me in that damn bottle, I was trying to tell you that I actually had …” Sam trailed off as he realized what the archangel had said. “Wait, what? You only wanted to find me? I mean, I appreciate you checking back in and letting me know you’re not still dead because of me more than you’ll ever know, but what about Kali? I thought that you and her were, you know … Isn’t she the reason why you gave us time to escape from Lucifer?”  
Gabriel rolled his eyes but moved his finger. “Kali and I had a thing thousands of years ago. That ended. And yes, she was part of the reason but the other reason was you… and your dorky brother but… ” He shrugged and looked away. “I like you. It’s why I pick on you. No one else puts up with my shit.”  
“Lucky me,” Sam sighed, but it was a poor shot at masking the impending smile that was starting to appear on his tiny face. “For a long time, I thought that you hated me, and that I hated you back,” Sam began haltingly. “But then I realized that most of the time, underneath being a dick who screws with people for fun, you were just trying to help. I realized exactly how great of a person you were and that you cared, even if your way of expressing it was messed up. And, Gabe, when you died for us, I was a mess. I couldn’t get you out of my head, couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted you to know how I felt about you.”  
Gabriel was turning red. There was a nervous flutter that was a few flaps of his hidden wings. “Yeah? I don’t know about all that.” He put Sam down on the bed and smiled at him. “I watched you from Limbo. Tried to help where I could.”  
Now Sam was positively beaming. For once he had been able to make the archangel blush, instead of the other way around. “Thank you, Gabriel. For that, and everything else.” Brushing aside any hesitance, Sam gestured for Gabe to lean down closer.  
Gabriel rose his eyebrows but leaned down closer to his human. “What? Offering to be a human lollipop?” He was sorely tempted to lick him.  
Sam’s nose wrinkle in distaste. “No, not quite.” Before Gabe could say anything else, Sam stepped forward, closing the remaining space between them, and planted a swift and soft kiss against the giant’s candy-sweet lips before almost instantly pulling away. Sam shifted anxiously on his feet, waiting for a reaction from the looming archangel and hoping that he hadn’t horribly misread the situation. He’s the perfect size for Gabriel to crush him like a bug, if the trickster so deems to do so.  
Gabriel does jerk in surprise. Oh. What happens instead is a flux of grace. Sam is suddenly normal height and Gabriel appears gone until there’s a rapid beating of wings near the sheets. Gabriel is in the air, still in a bit of shock, crackling with grace. “… this is new.”  
Relief at being big again and confusion to Gabe’s newly tiny status war inside of Sam at this newest development. “Gabe?” Sam inquired, bringing his hands forward to cup them around the tiny flying archangel. “What happened? Are you okay?”  
The angel was quick to fold his wings and hunker down. He had six of them, all a bright gold and shining but not unpleasantly. “Not sure. My grace freaked out.” He glanced up at Sam and flushed again, wings splaying out. “Wow, I didn’t think you could get more gigantic.”  
“You’re so small,” Sam said in awe, supporting the miniature figure in his leathery palms. He brought forward a finger to brush it ever so lightly against Gabe’s side, but then paused at the last moment. Gabe’s grace had freaked out when Sam had kissed him. Sam had caused something inside of Gabriel to react in a way that made the archangel completely vulnerable to pretty much anything and everything, all because Sam had kissed him. The hunter’s throat worked convulsively, and he quickly drew his hands away from Gabe, depositing the trickster on the bed before quickly turning away to his duffle bag to throw on some clothes. Sam had done this to Gabriel against the little guy’s will. Sam shouldn’t touch him again, because something else might go horrible wrong as well.  
Gabriel was a bit in awe. He preemptively flinched at the finger, ready for the sensation. He was confused when he was put down and flew up to land on his arm. “What you doin’, Samsquatch?” He asked, not hiding the fact he was admiring the muscle.  
It was Sam’s turn to flinch at the feeling of tiny feet standing on his bare skin. Not looking Gabriel in the eye, Sam shrugged the shoulder the archangel wasn’t perched on before grabbing a pair of boxers and jeans from the bag. “Just getting some clothes, Gabe. Can’t go around naked all day.”  
The angel rolled his eyes. “And who said that?” He glanced over the expanse of Sam’s body and grinned. “I rather like the view. In fact, maybe I should get down there and see it myself before you hide it from the world.”  
“Ha ha.” Sam said blandly, stepping into his boxers and starting to pull them up his long legs.  
The angel wasn’t about to let that happen. He jumped off Sam’s shoulder and dove. He barely managed to get in the center of his boxers before they were pulled up, wings brushing against Sam’s balls.  
“ _Gabriel_ !” Sam practically shrieked, hand instinctively reaching down to cup around his junk and the squirming archangel. The youngest Winchester was scandalized! But, then his mind flashed back to just exactly what Gabe had put him through with Dean and Cas not five minutes ago, and suddenly he decided against taking the tiny trickster out just yet- it was time for some payback. Figuring that since the archangel was low enough on grace right now to not be able to just zap out of his pants while still being affected by physical interactions with his body- painful or otherwise- Sam felt a plan forming. Forgetting the first pair of jeans he had chosen, Sam swiftly dug through his duffle once more before hastily shimmying into the pair that was practically molded to his crotch and ass, and would be certain to keep the little guy exactly where he was. “How’s it feel to have a taste of your own medicine, huh, Gabe?” Sam questioned as he threw on a shirt and then walked out of his room, extremely conscious of the feeling of Gabe caught snug up against his balls.  
Gabriel had his fun and laughed at the sound of his name. That’s why he adored his-the human. He was just too easy. He rolled in Sam’s hand, sending small shocks of grace against his skin. But then the hand was gone and he was ready to take off. Or was, until he was pressed hard up against the man’s junk. His wings fanned up against hot skin, squirming as Sam walked but unable to snap himself free. Shit. He kept trying to worm his way free.  
Sam groaned low in his throat at the constant pleasure sparking from Gabe’s squirming body, but he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of guilt at doing this to another person. Quickly reminding himself that Gabe had put him through much worse, the youngest Winchester refused to free the trickster just yet. Moving into the library, Sam grabbed one of the books lying around and sat down on one of the firm, unmoving wooden chair, making sure to directly pin Gabe between the hard surface and himself. But, even as he flipped through the pages of the tome, the hunter’s body couldn’t ignore how fan-friggin’-tastic Gabe’s movements were feeling right now, and his cock and balls grew hot and heavy with arousal atop of the tiny archangel.  
The angel found himself barely able to move. So this was the game? Fine by him. He could play dirty. The heaviness of Sam’s junk was weighing hard on his back. The smell was powerful too. Clean and rather pleasant but still strong. He began to squirm with intent now, not trying to escape per se. Just enough to get his hands near his prize. He found the head of Sam’s cock and began to massage it.  
The reaction was immediate; Sam jumped at the peculiar but pleasuring sensation of miniscule hands massaging his dick’s head. Okay, this had obviously stopped being a punishment for Gabriel, and there was no way Sam was gonna let himself jiz in his pants like some horny teenager, so he moved to unzip his jeans and take the archangel out. It’s too bad that Dean, hair messed up and a dopey smile on his face, entered the room, probably just having finished with Cas a few minutes earlier. Immediately, Sam’s hands jumped away from his junk like they’d been burned, and the younger brother couldn’t bring himself to look at the other hunter; mind immediately flashing back to the unfortunate incident he’d been caught in between not too long ago. That, and there was no way he was going to reveal to his brother that he currently had a shrunken archangel vibrator down his pants right now. Yeah, no thanks. Sam just hoped he could control himself enough not to raise any suspicions, not that Gabe’s endeavors were helping that at all.  
Gabriel knew it was working at the jump. Sure, it hurt a little, but it was so worth it. He was a little surprised Sam was letting it go on. Maybe it was a test of wills and oh Gabriel was ready for that. He began to slide his tiny hands into Sam’s slit, grinding his dick against the boxers. He needed a better vantage point. For a moment the sensations stopped altogether. It didn’t last long. Sam’s balls were rolled and kneaded as Gabriel flipped himself over so they were against his chest. Now all six wings were free and the sensation was made way more intense as they brushed gently over any skin in their path. Gabriel’s fingers were right back on the dick, greedily rubbing it over, while his hips grinded against Sam’s balls.  
“Heya, Sammy,” Dean greeted cheerfully. “How’s it-” The older brother stopped speaking at the look on his sibling’s face; somewhere between a cross of pissed off and constipated. “Woah, Dude, you doing okay?” The blonde questioned. Sam nodded jerkily, not trusting his voice at the moment. Gabe was going to be the death of him. Shudders were wracking the lanky hunter’s frame at the intense sensations of Gabriel’s grinding hips, stroking hands, and fluttering wings. Sam knew that he wasn’t gonna last long; it felt like someone was sending jolts of pure pleasure through his groin, leaving Sam breathless and a step away from panting. Without explaining himself to Dean at all, Sam jumped up and practically sprinted from the library, making it to his bedroom in record time and hastily ripping off his pants.  
Gabriel was thrown off his game when Sam suddenly stood and took off. Even in tight pants it gave him more freedom. He moved closer to Sam’s dick, trying to get more sensation in. Sam was going to cum if Gabriel had his way. The pants came off and suddenly Gabriel had to grip the cock as it gained the freedom to rise. He knew Sam was after him now. He scrambled to stay out of reach, pushing himself into Sam’s slit.  
At the feeling of a living, squirming person wriggling into his cock, Sam honest to God squealed. Clutching at the base of his dick through his boxers, the hunter held of his oncoming orgasm. Sam fell backwards onto his bed as his legs gave out from beneath him at the sensory overload of Gabriel inside of his throbbing cock. “G- _gah_ ! Gabe! Fuck, get out of there, you little perv!” The man gasped, humping the air as precome pushed its way past Gabe’s body and out of his slit, dampening the boxers that strained to contain Sam’s considerable erection.  
There was a muffled chuckling sound as Gabriel folded his wings to fit in easier. He spread them again as much as possible to keep himself right where he wanted to be. Shocking Sam with touches of grace as he moved further in.  
“If you don’t stop, Gabe, I’m going to- I’m gonna-” Breaking off into harsh pants, Sam used the hand not occupied in withholding his climax to start pumping his length upwards with a very specific purpose in mind; maybe he could force Gabe out by using the pressure to push him back up. Yeah, that could work, he’s not getting any additional pleasure from squeezing that squirming trickster tighter in his narrow passageway at all. Yeah.  
The trickster only laughed and began to really squirm anytime he felt Sam squeeze. He licked at Sam’s tight walls and every time Sam moved up-he wriggled himself down until he was close to Sam’s other hand. “Gonna blow your load?” The voice asked in Sam’s head.  
Unable to maintain verbal or mental comprehensibility, Sam merely whimpered in response, electric lust jolting up and down his spine. All he needed was just a little something more to tip him over the edge, and then he’d be a goner.  
The angel only chuckled and spread his wings a little more. A strong current of electric grace shooting through his cock. He’s grinding down, letting the semen make him sticky. He can feel it Sam’s so close. He wants him over the edge.  
It’s that very blast of grace that sends Sam rocketing into his orgasm, one hand still jerking himself through the climax as the other fists the covers, trying to hold back a scream of pleasure. Come spurts from his pulsing dick in bursts, and sparks fly across Sam’s eyes even as he calls out Gabriel’s name.  
Gabriel lets himself be pushed out and thrown against the fabric and Sam’s hand in a wet heap. His wings sticky and painfully stuck together. He cums too, right there and then. He falls down against Sam’s balls, worn out and panting hard.  
Sam takes a moment to ground himself back on Earth once more before taking notice of the distinct lack of banter in his head or persistent shrunken archangel getting his rocks off. Worried, the hunter’s brow furrows as he refused to move an inch, worried that he had somehow hurt the trickster, or his next move might do so. The little guy was so small that Sam would already have a hard enough time spotting him, but his genitals were a mess of sticky white come, and he couldn’t spot any movement. “Gabe?” He called, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. “Are you okay? Where are you? Come on, if you got hurt all in the name of sex, I’ll kick your tiny ass.”  
Gabriel fluttered his wings tiredly and glanced up at Sam. He used a lot of grace. He was tired. He wanted to sleep or rest now. He didn’t care. He shivered and sat up a little. “Right here, Sammy. A mess and maybe a little sore.”  
Quick to snatch up the tiny angel in his hand, Sam looked at the come-coated figure. A mischievous glint entered his gaze as he stared at the complete mess Gabriel was as the trickster’s earlier idea came back to mind. Maybe Gabe’s trickster attitude was infectious, or maybe Sam’s mind was still blown from that orgasm, but some licking didn’t seem so bad now. “Looks like you need some help cleaning up. Don’t worry, Gabe, I got you.” And with that, Sam popped Gabriel’s tiny body into his mouth.  
Gabriel was trying to fix his wings when he was snatched up by Sam’s large hands. He glanced up and froze. He didn’t like that look. That wasn’t a safe look. He opened his mouth to protest and ask what Sam had in mind before he was tumbling into a dark wet cavern and this time it wasn’t his own doing. The angel let out a sound of confusion and totally not fear and started trying to find the way back out. “Samsquatch!” He shouted and fumbled over his wings, feathers already gross and matted and the hot wet of Sam’s mouth was not helping any.  
Really, Sam shouldn’t be that surprised, but beneath the tangy taste of come, Gabriel tasted sweet. Actually enjoying the feel of Gabe squirming around against his tongue, Sam playfully licked at the tiny form with his tongue, careful not to press too hard against his wings. Stroke by stroke, Sam cleaned the come off of Gabriel, pinning him against his teeth to still the archangel’s struggles. Ignoring the tiny trickster’s calls, Sam hummed a little, hoping to calm him down.  
Gabriel found it wasn’t as bad as he thought after a few seconds. Sam wasn’t being mean. Of course he wasn’t. Sam didn’t have a mean bone in his body, really. Aside from the hunting bone and even that wasn’t cruel. The humming did seem to relax him and he sank down a little. He could feel the tackiness falling off his body as Sam licked at his form. He began to hum himself, matching the tone reverberating in his head. Angels loved music. Any fool with a Bible could tell you that. “I’m all out of Grace…” He admitted. Something he would have never told anyone else. Sam was safe. Sam was kind. Sam wasn’t like any other human he’d met. He liked this one. Wanted to keep him. Bottle him up, maybe. Hide him from the mess that had been the life of so many others. Weird. He should really get these thoughts out of his head. Humans didn’t last long. His Sam wouldn’t last long. He sighed out and closed his eyes.  
Sam stilled. His hums petered off as the quiet words were heard. With an incredible amount of gentle care, the hunter took Gabriel from his mouth, supporting the archangel with his warm hands. “Out of Grace?” Sam asked, worry evident even in his quiet tone as he strived to give off an aura of calm strength for the precious being he held in his hand; the archangel who had died for him, who Sam himself would willingly die for as well. If only Sam had the courage to truly show the trickster just how much the Winchester valued and cared for him. “Are you okay? What can I do?” Determination filled Sam’s eyes at the prospect of being able to help who he considered to be his angel, even if Gabriel didn’t feel the same way. Hell, if Sam was being honest, there’s no way he would ever be lucky enough to be Gabe’s; everyone knew that the youngest Winchester had been Hell’s and Lucifer’s golden boy from the start. As if Gabriel would ever think of him as anything else. Sure, the archangel may say that he cares for Sam, but it was probably just to spare his fragile human feelings than anything sincere.  
Gabriel shook himself off and fanned out his six golden but very tired wings. He gave Sam a smile. He seemed right back to his normal self, granted he was covered in spit and spunk. He gave Sam a wink. “I don’t know. Maybe a round two later? Of course that’s only if you’re up for it, Samsquatch.” He laid out on Sam’s palm, clearly tired though and let his wings fall over it. They were a complete mess and he began to pick at them, unable to reach most of them to fix them properly. “How bout we just lay down a bit? Humans have a shit recovery time, right?”  
Huffing out a laugh, Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly. This was exactly why he loved- um, err- liked the archangel so much; no, not for the crude innuendoes, but because if you managed to see past all the suggestive flirting, he was actually amazing. And pure, and good, and charming, and kind, or in other words, nothing like Sam at all. “Yeah, Gabe, sounds good. I just gotta go clean up real quick,” Sam said with a quick gesture towards the drying mess on his crotch. Moving his hands slow and steadily so as not to jostle his tiny companion, the hunter placed his hands on the pillow so Gabe could get off and he could go tidy up.  
Gabriel grinned at him a little. “You sure you want to? We’re only going to mess it up again.” He commented but he sank down onto the pillow, happy for it. He was rather tired and hiding it. He sank down a little. He began to work on his feathers again, straightening them out. It’d been so long since he’d seen them out. He didn’t even realize when he’d curled up, cat like, on the pillow and dozed off waiting for Sam.  
When Sam returned, it was to the adorable image of a napping Gabriel. Making sure to be as quiet as possible, the hunter stealthily slipped into some sweats before joining the archangel, taking great care to not wake him. Now laying alongside the tiny figure, Sam couldn’t help but reach out and caress along the trickster’s spine, his finger stilling when the shrunken angel twitched and murmured a bit, before continuing to pet his angel. Biting his lip in a nervous habit, Sam decided that now would be the only time for him to confess his feelings; when the person he loved was fast asleep and couldn’t reject him. “Gabriel,” Sam practically whispered, “I know that I … that compared to you, I’m practically nothing. You, you’re so amazing, Gabe, and I’m just Azazel’s tainted Boy King or Lucifer’s perfect vessel. And, it’s amazing you even stick around. I wouldn’t blame you if you left and never came back. But, I need you to know that … I love you, Gabe. More than anything. And, I know that you would never feel the same, but you’re everything to me. Finding out that you’re alive has been the best thing to happen to me in years. Thank you so much for coming back to me, even if you leave as soon as you’re Grace is back, this is more than I could have ever dreamed of ever happening.” Satisfied with himself, but still feeling achingly empty where he wished the archangel’s love would fill, Sam continued to pet his tiny angel.  
Gabriel’s wings twitched at the feeling of the finger against his spine. He let out a soft breath and curled into it. He didn’t hear Sam’s heartfelt confession but he felt it. It was a warmth that ran through him. He rolled to be closer to Sam pressing against his chest to find that feeling and keep it inside his chest. A feeling so human and so foreign he wasn’t sure what to do with it. He sighed out a little. His human. No Lucifer’s. Not that crazy demon’s. His. He mumbled quietly in his sleep but it didn’t make much sense. He loved sleep. He loved candy. And fuck if he didn’t love Sam Winchester.

It wasn’t long until Sam found himself drifting off to sleep as well; energy already spent from all of the excitement he’s been through today. The warm body in his hand was a comfort to the hunter, and he found himself slipping peacefully into pleasant dreams.   
Angels didn’t need sleep but Gabriel enjoyed it. He was warm, safely tucked away, and recharging his Grace. What could be better? He nuzzled at Sam’s fingers a little and wondered if maybe this size could be fun for a while. He could just stay with Sam. Oh sure, he would be found out eventually but until then… He sighed out and smiled. This was good. He’d let himself have this for a while. He slept only an hour before the boredom came rushing back. He stretched out, wings spreading and a low noise in his throat. Much better. He slipped through Sam’s fingers and stood on his hand, watching the hunter. Well, dwelling on unrequited feelings was bound to get everyone hurt. Besides he didn’t have nearly as cool a line as ‘I’m the one who raised you from Perdition’ or however that went. He moved up Sam’s arm and hummed in thought before flicking his fingers and removing Sam’s clothes. He wanted to explore while he waited for the giant to wake up. He slid down and walked across Sam’s chest, feathers dragging along skin. He stopped at Sam’s nipple and grinned, starting to massage it. He was going to give Sam the best sex of his life as many times as he could. But this time, he decided he didn’t want caught. He suddenly seemed to disappear but he was there, teasing away. After all, maybe him coming back was a dream?   
A happy mutter left Sam as the persistent pleasing tingle slowly drew him from sleep. The first thing he noticed was the chilly air on his skin. Huh, that was weird; Sam never slept naked. The next was the distinct absence of a tiny, warm body in his hand as previous memories started to flood his recently gained consciousness. Eyes snapping open, Sam’s brow furrowed, even as he bit his lip to hold back a pleasure groan. Looking around, he saw no sign of the small archangel, nor any reason for his body’s arousal. “Gabe?” Sam called out hopefully, waiting with baited breath for any sign of his angel. He could easily brush aside some misplaced lust if it meant finding the trickster. That is, unless it had all been a dream. The thought entered him mind unwarranted and unwanted; it would be a horrible trick of his subconscious mind to craft a dream so perfect, so desired, only for reality to crush the hope and love that had been rekindled at the archangel’s return.   
Gabriel tried not to still at his name and give himself away. He was having fun right now. He carefully fluttered to the other nipple and stroked it, watching Sam carefully. 'Come on, get into this. We could have fun.’ He tried to will.   
For a moment, Sam closed his eyes and accepted that it had all been nothing more than a cruel, wonderful dream. The thought would devastate him if he let it, so he chose not to. It was easy enough with this enticing distraction right at hand, or so Sam told himself. Reaching down with his hands, Sam began to pleasure himself, willing his mind to lose itself in the feelings that so willing came from it.   
Gabriel was pleased it finally seemed to get through. He wanted Sam to writhe and forget everything. Him, being a hunter, being upset, all of it. It’s how Gabe coped. He dove into pleasure and forgot the pain. The only real way to get by. He kept going, massaging, licking, and grinding until this nipple was as hard as the previous one. That done he tried to think if what to do next. How else could he drive Sam crazy? He flew away from his chest and landed in between his gigantic legs, admiring the sight and sounds in front of him. Shit, he might never go big again. Just stay like this and admire like some crazy voyeur. Which he was. But right now he wanted to be involved. He moved to Sam’s hand and waited, let it grab him. He wanted to be Sam’s little toy for a while. See what he wanted first. Let just Gabriel’s presence bring the human pleasure.   
Leaving one hand to pinch and caress his erect nipples, Sam closed the other around his hardened cock, which instantly showed interest at his touch. As he gave a few experimental tugs, the Winchester was surprised at how quick his body was to respond; it was almost like there was something more beside his grasping hand that was adding to his pleasure. Loving the lust that was already filling his head with need, the hand that had been focused on his nipples moved down to fondle his filling balls. Writhing under his own touches, the man’s finger’s unconsciously focused on putting more pressure upon that one spot which tingled so pleasantly with every touch.   
Gabriel was pleased it was working. He was being rolled around and pushed against hot flesh. Sam was really getting into this and Gabriel had only gotten started. He grinded against him and sent small sparks of grace through the skin. If Sam thought this was good, he couldn’t wait to show him the finale.   
Sam didn’t have a clue to why or how he was so close already, but the man would be lying if he said he wasn’t loving it. His entire body was prickling with arousal in a way Sam had never felt before, and he knew that all his body needed was one more push and then he’d go over the edge.   
The angel had one more trick. He disappeared, leaving Sam with the fleeting sensation of his being there. For a while it was gone before there was a tickle near his ass and then against Sam’s hole as Gabriel ground against the entrance, enticing.   
Sam jolted as his body unexpectedly brought attention to his hole, practically begging for it. Quick to comply, a finger moved to brush against the entrance, lightly pushing and pulling as Sam teased himself and drew out this amazing feeling. A groan rumbled through his chest as he slowly and carefully wriggled the tip inside of himself.   
The angel let himself be pushed against the rim by Sam’s exploitative finger. He didn’t expect to be pushed in as quickly as he was, hoping to tease a bit longer. He was caught under Sam’s finger as he was moved in a little awkwardly, wings fluttering quickly to make sure they made it inside. Still he was in and now Sam was all his to play like a fiddle. He took off in the dark and searched for Sam’s prostrate, eagerly. He found it and grinned, sinking down and gently starting to stroke it. Unless Sam had some kind of toys, he was in for a slow torture.   
Thrusting up into his own hand, Sam squirmed helplessly as lust maddeningly taunted him. His prostrate was sending pleasant buzzes and hums straight to Sam’s lewd length. He didn’t know what was doing this to him, and Sam couldn’t find it in himself to really care. The only thing that could make this any better would be if a certain archangel were taking part in these depraved acts with him. As soon as that thought entered Sam’s mind, the hunter couldn’t force it away. Picturing Gabriel, short and wonderful and perfect, making love to him, Sam’s breathing stuttered to a momentary stop. He was being cruel to himself, but the Winchester couldn’t help but imagine that it was Gabe’s hand around his cock, wholly devoting himself to Sam. Another particularly strong shot of pleasure to prostrate had Sam moaning his archangel’s name aloud, low and lustful.   
The name hit Gabriel like a loud, powerful and sinful prayer. It was more than just spoken. It ran up his spine and made him freeze up, his eyes wide. Holy… He gasped, gripping at the cluster of nerves. Damn it, Sam. Still, he never felt so wanted. He needed him right now. There was a flash as all the lights in the bunker went haywire as Gabriel reappeared in front of Sam, all six wings flared out and showing up in the shadows behind him, completely normal sized. He didn’t wait or even say anything snarky, just grabbed Sam and kissed him, blazing electricity still on his skin.   
A red hot flash of pleasure from his prostrate had Sam’s eyes snapping wide open, only for him to find himself staring up at none other than Gabriel himself, his beautiful figure framed by shadowed wings, half a moment later. When his mouth became almost instantly tangled with Gabe’s, Sam moaned against the other angel’s lips at the taste of him. Wide, strong hands came up to grip Gabriel’s sides as Sam ground up against him, not daring for a second to believe that this was anything more than just another heartbreaking dream. But Sam’d be damned again before he let it slip past him, so he held on tight.   
The archangel wrapped right back around him. He pressed down, giving Sam more friction. His human. Fuck it. Fuck lonely existence. He’d stay. As long as Sam wanted him and was alive- he’d stay. He moved his mouth to his ear. “Go rough, Tiger. I’m not going anywhere this time.”   
Gabe’s voice was like a drug. The archangel was always talking, never stopped, and Sam couldn’t keep himself from loving how his fantasy spoke, too. In one swift move, Sam had flipped their positions on the bed, pinning Gabe beneath him as he rutted ruthlessly against the smaller body. Their aching dicks shifted and rubbed against each other, the rough friction so agonizingly perfect. Huffing out a laugh, Sam stared into those impossibly golden eyes. “Even when you’re normal sized, you’re so friggin’ short, Gabe,” and then he crashed his lips back down upon the angel’s, all teeth and tongue and want.   
Gabriel let out a moan of his own when Sam took charge. How had he waited on this so long? He was a bit dazed and smirking as he stared up at Sam. The protest that Sam was a giant was lost in his throat at the powerful kiss. This was better than any damned candy. He could stop Sam, easily throw him against a wall like a rag doll, but he let the Winchester overpower him. He slid his fingers through Sam’s hair, thrusting up. He was already so close.   
“Ahh- Gabe, I’m so close,  _I just need_ \- I need,” Words broken and stuttering, Sam struggled against the powerful orgasm that was threatening to overtake him. “ _Please_ , Gabe, I want to-” His hold tightening to the point where Gabriel surely would’ve bruised if not for being an angel, Sam teetered on the brink, only need the slightest thing to bring him to climax.   
Gabriel listened to the choked out plea and shivered again. It was the sensation from earlier. He heard it out loud and in his angelic core. He pushed a huge amount of his grace into Sam as Gabe yanked him down for a bruising kiss. He pushed up hard against him, grinding. The light next to the bed exploding as Gabriel came first.   
Sam’s skin was aflame with the feeling of Gabe’s Grace- everything that Gabriel ever was and is- filled him with light and love. Holy energy filling him, Sam found himself coming hard right after his angel, adding to the mess that had been made between them. Simultaneously filled with energy and completely exhausted, Sam’s shaking limbs failed to hold him up any longer and the hunter collapsed down atop of the archangel. Angling his head, Sam captured Gabe’s lips in a kiss, slow and drawn-out in passion. “I love you,” Sam whispered, before tucking his head in the crook of Gabe’s neck and shoulder, more than willing to enjoy the remaining time this fantasy provides him with Gabriel before he woke up.   
Seeing Sam lit up with the powerful glow of the grace was an astounding sight. He was already such an amazing human. A real pure soul. He wanted to chase out all the demon blood with his light. He chuckled when Sam fell on him. He kissed him back, a hand sliding over his shoulders. He felt his vessel’s heart stop. He glanced down at Sam. He breathed out and pulled him closer. Love, huh? He kissed his forehead and sank down. He was exhausted. His grace flickered and he wrapped around him. “Yeah? Me too, Samsquatch.”   
Now, that really did have Sam laughing, but not the happy type of laugh. It was more incredulous, with a bitter current of longing underneath the surface. “Ha. Now I know you’re a dream for sure,” he sleepily mumbled in his angel’s ear. “Too good to be true. Too good for me.” Sleep was calling Sam’s name, and he really didn’t have it in him to fight it right now. Can you sleep in a dream? Whatever.   
The laugh hurt for a while but at the words, he understood why. Alright. His plan worked a little too well. Poor guy. “We’ll see what you say when you wake up.” Gabe joked and pet Sam’s hair. “Relax.”   
And Sam did. Finding comfort in his beloved’s arms, the youngest Winchester drifted away happily, pushing back any dread for the harsh reality that will come when he wakes.   
Gabriel wrapped him up and pulled him closer. He intended to be there when Sam woke up. He wasn’t going anywhere. He wraps his wings around Sam, invisible as they are. Gabe’s tired too. Dozing off with him is just too good an offer to pass up.   
When Sam came to, he was a little shocked to find exactly who he sleeping on top of, to put it lightly. Scrambling off of Gabriel and the bed, Sam scoured his mind for an answer as to what the fricken’ Hell was going on here. It only took him a moment to figure out what supernatural creature must have launched him into this continuous alternate reality that was just too not-completely-screwed-up to be his own. A djinn; one of those monsters must have launched him into this world where, for once, Sam actually got to be with the person he loved. He’d be lying to say that he wasn’t tempted to stay, but he could never do that to Dean. Well, there’s only one way to exit a djinn-induced dream. Opening up the nightstand, Sam pulled out his dagger, which glinted wickedly in the room’s low lighting. Best to just get it over with sooner rather than later.   
The angel twitched in his sleep when Sam pulled away. He opened his eyes at the sound of the drawer and sat up, flexing. “Is it mornin’ already?” He asked and glanced over. Oh shit. He put his hands up. “Uhh … is that an angel blade? I know I’m good at sex but that’s no reason to kill a guy.”   
Rolling his eyes at fake-Gabe, Sam faltered for a moment. Couldn’t hurt to steal one last kiss, right? Moving forward, Sam captured dream-Gabriel in a final kiss, short and sweet. Sam already knew he was gonna miss that. Then, pulling away before he could lose himself and his purpose, Sam raised the silver hunting dagger above his chest and brought it down in a swift action, bracing himself for the pain, but knowing it had to be done.   
Gabriel was put-off for a moment, but was still keeping his eyes on the dagger. The fuck! The knife halted as he used what grace he had left to stop it. “What the fuck? Are you insane? I give you one good night and you want to off yourself? I’m not  _that_ good at sex! We can do it more than once!”   
“God damnit, Gabe, I don’t have time for this. I gotta get out of this dream before the djinn gets me. It’s not like I expect you to understand, but you’re not real. Hell, you’re not even alive in the real world. So, just lemme do this, okay?” Wrenching the knife out of the weakened Grace’s grasp, Sam tried again. He really couldn’t take being around Gabriel any longer, not when he knew it was all a lie.   
Gabriel made a sound and snapped his fingers, shrinking Sam down so the knife was useless. He was breathing hard, exhausted. “What are you going off about? Do you think a djinn could get past an archangel?” He asked, reaching down for him.   
Sam’s thought process came to a full on halt as he was miniaturized for the second time in as many days. Realization dawned upon him, and he openly accepted Gabriel’s reaching hand. “You’re real?! I thought- I thought that it was all a dream! That you were just something my head had conjured up thanks to a djinn!” And then full understanding of Gabe’s most recent trick hit him with a wave of righteous fury. “Wait a moment! Gabriel, you friggin’ dick! You messed with me, you made me think that you weren’t real when I woke up alone! What the Hell is wrong with you?!” Sam was this close to jumping from Gabe’s grasp just to spite the archangel.   
Gabriel picked him up and dropped him in his lap. “What? No! I was just trying to give you a good time! And so what if you were alone when you woke up? You gonna always freak out like that if I leave?” He pushed his hair out of his eyes.   
“No, I’m not needy or clingy or anything, so don’t try and paint me that way! I called out to you, and you didn’t answer! It wouldn’t have been the first dream that I’ve had of you coming back, so why would I have thought that this time was any different? You’re nothing more than some conceited, self-obsessed jerk who doesn’t give a damn about how others feel as long as you can get a laugh out of it! Well, I hope that your joke was fricken’ worth it Gabe, cause I’m done with you right now!” Sam’s steam seemed to falter for a moment, but he shook himself and continued, if not a little softer and sadder. “I just need some time to myself right now, Gabe. Or is that too much to ask?” Sam didn’t wait for a response to climb down from Gabe’s lap and start stalking to the edge of the bed.   
Gabriel sighed out and looked away. Sam was right. Always was. He leaned down and put a hand down to block him. “Sam, listen… truth of the matter is… I wasn’t sure I was gonna stay. Give you one last bang before I took off. But… I changed my mind. You changed my mind. Sure, I’ll outlive you… but you know what? Who cares? Once you’ve had your space… Think I can stick around in your life?”   
Stopping dead in his tracks, Sam turned so fast back towards Gabriel that he might’ve given himself whiplash. “You … You want to stay? With me? Gabe, of course I want you to stick around, but … are you sure? It’s just, I’m only some human, and you’re Gabriel- the Gabriel, Messenger of God, an archangel. Why would you ever want to stay?” Different emotions were rapid firing across Sam’s face, and he just couldn’t seem to settle on one.   
Gabriel rose an eyebrow. “…Sammy, do you know me at all? You take me way too seriously. Of course I want to stick around. I love you, you weirdo.” He grinned at him and poked him in the stomach. “Just don’t expect me to lay off the tricks.”   
This time, Sam’s laughter was real and joyous. “I think I can handle that.” Then he sobered, though his voice was still soft with sincerity and affection. “I love you too, Gabe.” Smiling widely, he raised up his arms like a child does to be picked up, blushing furiously.   
Gabriel picked him up and kissed his stomach. “Fraid you’re stuck like that a while. You graced me out. Again.” He said smirking and looking extremely happy, himself.   
Sam groaned, but it wasn’t enough to hide the smile still plastered on his face. “I think you just like being taller than someone for once in your life,” the hunter snarked, still enjoying the fleeting sensation of Gabriel’s soft lips pressing lightly against his entire stomach. He’d never admit it, but being so small with Gabriel so big was kind of amazing. But that doesn’t mean he wants to be like this all the time … just that it was a little nice, in some ways. “Well, until you’re able to, do you wanna go and do something?”


	29. "Can I sleep on your chest tonight?"

Dean kneaded his temple with his forefingers, trying to ward off the impending headache. With a sigh, he looked down once again at the tiny, teary eyed child sitting on the table, peering up at him through too-long, floppy bangs.   
“D-dean?” The kid queried, biting his miniscule lip. “Why are you so- so big? And old? What happened to you? Where’s dad?” With every question, the tiny child’s voice grew more warbling, and he looked about a half-second away from completely breaking down.   
“Sam,” Dean started, only to soften his voice when the lil’ dude flinched, “Sammy, you got whammied by that friggin’ witch, remember? Her stupid homemade spell made you-” He gestured vaguely, referencing both Sam’s diminished age and stature. Apparently, the spell couldn’t decide whether the witch had meant little as in age or little as in height, so it had just done both. Woop-de-freakin’-do, the Winchester luck strikes again.   
And, of course, the spell hadn’t just physically de-aged Sam, but mentally as well. The kid couldn’t be older that six years old, and all Dean wanted to do was head to the nearest bar and drink himself silly till he forgot all about this crap, but there was no way Dean was getting anywhere near a bottle when he had a little brother that needed taking care of.   
The big brother sighed softly, his breath ruffling Sam’s mop of hair, laying his hand flat beside the kid. “C’mon, Kiddo, hop on. It’s time for you to hit the hay. We’ll figure how to fix all this shi-I mean- stuff.”   
Dean didn’t have to wait long till Sammy was obediently clambering atop his palm, sitting down in the center ‘crisscross-applesauce’ style. The elder hunter could at least say he was glad that Sam was still in full-blown hero worship mode towards his big brother, so after Dean established that he was, in fact, Sammy’s Dean, there had been no issues in trust at all. In all honesty, the little guy might even be handling this whole shrinking ordeal better than Dean’s moody grownup Sam would. Total trust verging on blind faith in his big bro and all that jazz. Even so, the tiny guy had a ton of questions that Dean wasn’t rested enough to answer right now, so Sammy will just have to wait to get all the details and reasons and whys and hows tomorrow morning.   
It was with the utmost concentration and care that the hunter transferred his tiny little brother over to the nightstand in between the two beds, letting Sammy slide off the slope of his fingers as if Dean were a play construction instead of a proportional giant. Using the lightest of touches, Dean ruffled Sam’s hair with the tip of his pinky finger, chuckling at the resulting miniature bitch-face Sammy threw at him while trying to fix the mess left behind.   
While the kid was busy, the big brother set about making the tiny dude a bed. One folded flannel and two soft tissues later, Dean had thrown together some half-way decent makeshift sleeping accommodations. Sure, the flannel wasn’t the warmest and tissues might not make the best pillows, but it’d do until Dean figured out how to reverse the curse. It’s not like they hadn’t bunked in some pretty shabby rooms, even when they were younger. And, if memory served correctly, the kid always slept like a rock anyways; probably wouldn’t even notice the difference.   
Pretty exhausted himself from the stressful day, Dean couldn’t deny the draw of sleep either, so he shimmied out of his pants before climbing under the cheap motel covers in his boxers and undershirt. Reaching over to flick off the lamp, the older brother paused when he glanced at Sammy, who was still standing there on nightstand, shuffling his feet. Moving to sit up a bit more, propping himself up on his elbow, Dean’s brow furrowed.   
“What’s up, Sammy? I know you gotta be tired by now, so why aren’t you in bed?” The shrunken child glanced up at him for half a moment before swiftly looking away, shrugging his tiny shoulders.   
Maybe Dean was wrong; maybe the bed really did suck ass and Sam didn’t want to sleep in it.   
“Can I sleep on your chest tonight?” Sammy asked, everything about him so damn small and cute in that very moment as he looked up at his big brother with those pleading puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Dean?” As if Dean’s heartstrings weren’t already being tugged at by his little baby brother, the kid lifted his arms up into the air, silently begging to be picked up.   
Oh.  _Oh_ . Well then. Looks like Dean’s forgotten a bit more about the time that he and Sam were kids together than he’d thought. But, now that it’s right there, bright and flashing in his face, Dean remembers that Sam still insisted on sleeping with him when he was six, especially when he was upset or scared. Dean’s an idiot. Of course the kid worried and afraid; he woke up to a different world and a different brother.   
Snapping himself out of his internal reverie when he noticed Sam’s arms slowly dropping when the child took his silence as rejection. As Sammy turned away to go over to the shirt-bed, his tiny hazel eyes glistening with unshed tears, Dean quickly scooped him up in a warm hand, earning a yelp from his kid brother.   
“Course you can, Sammy. All you needed to do was ask, little bro.” Settling onto his back, Dean let the guy climb off and wander around till he settled down over Dean’s heart, curling up into a little ball.   
Dean watched him for a moment, how his small body lifted and dropped a little with every breath Dean took, how that tiny smile lit up his face even as sleep tugged at his eyes. But, just before he could shut off the light, Sam’s voice stopped him once more.   
“Hey, Dean?” Sammy waited for Dean’s responding hum to continue. “Can you show me that picture of Mom? Please?”   
Now it was the older brother’s turn to suddenly have the burning sting of tears flood his eyes at the unexpected innocent request. “Yeah, Sammy, sure.” He would deny it to his dying breath, but his voice was a little choked with emotion.   
Reaching over and snatching up his wallet, he pulls out said photo. Sam couldn’t have been taller than the photo and he stared up at it in silence. They stayed like that for a few minutes, not speaking, before Dean gently broke their reverie.   
“If you want,” he began softly, “I could tell you about her. I could tell you about what it was like, Sammy.”   
Dean’s heart twinged at hopefully, ecstatic look on Sammy’s tiny face as all thoughts of sleep left the little guys body. The big brother harshly swallowed around the lump lodged in his throat. If there was one thing he regretted, it was how taboo the subject of Mary had always been, and not just when they were younger. It had meant that Sam had never really gotten to know his mom in the one way he could; through Dean and John’s memories of her.   
But, Dean can do something about that now. Fix that mistake. Let Sammy know about why they fight and just how much they lost and just how much Mary loved him.   
So that’s exactly what he does. For the next couple of hours, Dean talks and talks about everything he can remember, whether they’re his own memories or the snippets he’d heard from John over the years. Sam takes in and hangs upon Dean’s every word with rapt and single-minded attention. It wasn’t until his throat had gone dry that the older brother realized that Sam had passed out sometime during Dean’s trip down memory lane. He wasn’t sure whether it was how young Sammy was or the newly gained memories of mom, but this was the most peaceful sleep the kid had had in years, if not decades.   
Snapping off the lamp’s light, Dean fell asleep with his hand cupped around his small little brother.   
Only to wake up the next morning to a full-grown, full-sized Sam Winchester laying heavily atop Dean’s body. Gasping for breath, Dean managed to shove his no longer quite so little little brother off of him, causing Sam to wake up with a yelp as he tumbled off the bed and crashed onto the floor.   
Now, don’t get Dean wrong; he was more than happy to have his Sam back, but there was just something he missed about having his kid bro around, even if the dude was a munchkin.   
It was a couple of hours later when Sam stopped Dean before they hit the road again. The kid- yes, kid, because Sammy will always be a kid to Dean no matter how old or oversized the guy gets- had the exact same look that little Sammy did when he asked Dean if he could bunk with him for the night.   
“Dean. I just wanted to say thanks,” Sam held up a hand to stop Dean from interrupting. “I know, I know, no chick-flics rule, so I’ll make this quick. Thank you for always being there for me, for having my back no matter what. For taking care of me when I was a kid, and especially for what you did last night. Just, thanks, man. It means a lot. You’re the best big brother I could have asked for, and my best friend, too.” Before Dean could so much as react, Sam had pulled him into a bear-hug. Then, as soon as it started, it was over, and Sam was grabbing his duffle from the motel bed and marching out the door. Right before he left the room, he looked back, dopey smile playing across his lips. “But It’s good to be the tall one again.”


	30. "I'm not a doll, you know. Stop treating me like one."

Sam’s honestly considering considering murdering Dean at this point, which is saying a lot if you take into mind how much time the guys put into trying to keep each other alive. This whole mother-henning-to-the-extreme thing has gone way too far for far too long. Sam is done. He’s past the point of giving a damn about him being only two inches tall, or that bad luck seems to be following him around like the plague (more so than usual). If Dean, the towering giant that he appears to be, pulls one more stunt like the ones that Sam’s been forced to endure these past few days, the little brother is gonna go all David and Goliath on his ass.   
The very first thing that Dean did when he found his Borrower of a brother was put the little dude in a fricken’ shoe box, as if that wouldn’t ruffle every single independent feather on Sam’s body. It’s not as if this whole screwed up ordeal wasn’t bad enough, oh no, because now Sam is trapped in this degrading as Hell cardboard cage so that Dean can tote his tiny ass all around the motel room without having to go farther than two feet from each other at all times. Sam’s box is brought along for anything and everything, whether it’s to the kitchen for a midnight snack or right outside the bathroom door when nature calls to the older brother.   
Completely and fully ignoring Sam’s statements of “I’m fine” and “Seriously, Dean, I can take care of myself” and “Let me out of this goddamned box, you jerk” and even “I’m not a doll, you know. Stop treating me like one,” Dean continued to watch over his brother like a hawk, which was uncomfortably intimidating given how Sam can get lost in the shadow cast by Dean’s overbearing figure. It wasn’t until they’d entirely run out of food and Sam entirely refused to eat another bite of delivery pizza that was more grease than anything edible that the big brother agreed to leave the motel room, and that was with Sam’s box in hand. Only this time, it was with the added “safety purposes.” At least Dean remembered to poke some holes in the top of it so that Sam didn’t suffocate while being tossed around like he was on some sketchy state fair ride while Dean grabbed some actual groceries.   
It was when Dean tried to feed Sam himself that the younger brother well and truly lost it. He’d rather choke on Dean’s effing homemade soup (which he nearly did, writhing around in Dean’s hand like a munchkin possessed) than allow himself to be fed it with a goddamned stopper. As an alternative, Dean spent a ludicrous amount of time painstakingly preparing foods suitable for Sam’s size, which, while kind, is just completely ridiculous when Sam is just as fine munching on a giant lettuce leaf.   
In the end, Sam finally brought Dean about to his way of thinking and let his tiny brother out of the box. (It only took a week-long silent treatment, two life and limb risking acts of defiance, and eventually managing to light that accursed shoebox prison aflame so there was no box to put Sam in to get Dean to see things reasonably.)   
All of this progress was laid to waist when Dean nearly had a panic attack the moment Sam is out of sight for two seconds, and the box is replaced by the pocket.   
Yeah, Sam’s gonna kill him.


	31. Size Shifter Cas

Castiel Novak was a man of stoic composure and social isolation. His walls against the rest of the world were crafted and maintained with the utmost care and vigilance, reinforced by years of being taught that his powers were dangerous, that  _he_ was dangerous. That they were a curse, not a gift, and needed to be controlled and repressed, or they would only put himself and others in danger.   
The last thing that Cas had ever wanted to do was hurt anyone, so he quickly learned to never get close, never use his powers, and, above all else, never let himself feel.   
For many years of his life, Castiel was nothing more to the rest of the world than an unfeeling character separated from humanity by his stone-faced front. And, save for a handful of mishaps, he succeeded in locking away an entire part of who he was.   
And then the Winchesters entered his life. Not necessarily by Castiel’s choice or consent, mind you, but they entered all the same, with that amazing single-minded, hard-headed, stubborn determination that is inherent to the Winchester name.   
No matter how much Castiel had brushed them off, ignored them, ran away, or practically bit one of their heads off with a well-placed snarky comment, the duo refused to leave him alone or lose interest. Dean in particular seemed especially set on becoming Castiel’s friend, for some reason that was beyond Cas’ understanding to this day.   
Yet the oldest Winchester had caught Castiel’s attention as well, even if the raven haired man would never admit it. Whether it was the fluttering feeling in his chest or the way he got lost in those incredible green orbs or the young man’s surety that his own hand would fit perfectly in Dean’s, Castiel knew that he had feelings towards the oldest Winchester. Castiel knew exactly how dangerous that was, but no matter how hard he tried to shove those feelings deep down inside of himself, they always flared back to life whenever Dean entered the room in his consistently loud and blatantly obnoxious fashion.   
He didn’t remember when he let it happen, but one day Cas woke up and realized that he had become best friends with the Winchesters. Castiel couldn’t force himself to be the slightest bit bothered by the happiness he felt in that knowledge.   
Years later, those bonds of friendship have only strengthened, but Novak never could force himself to tell the brothers his secret. But Dean and Sam both accepted Castiel as he was, strange quirks and all, and they were happy and life was good.   
And then it all went to Hell.   
Castiel shakily breathed through his nose in erratic bursts, struggling to focus on calming down as his emotions- which were normally kept in check under the iron grip of Castiel’s will- threatened to overwhelm Cas in a catastrophic wave. Today had been a bad- scratch that- a fricken’ horrible day, and the man was hanging on to his control by a thread.    
His perfected façade and sturdy walls were tearing apart at the seams, even as Cas’s shaking hands fumbled with the keys to unlock the door to his home. As soon as the lock clicked open, Castiel staggered into the house, distractedly slamming the door shut behind him. The man collapses down onto his knees, shutting his eyes to close himself off from the rest of the world. He battled to stay in control, to not grow, even as his body fought against him.   
It was all about to come crumbling down around him; Castiel hadn’t had an incident like this in years, but it looks like today was going to turn all that hard work to waste.   
But, apparently the universe never grows tired of screwing Cas over, because next thing Novak knew, the Winchester brothers are walking through his door (which he had unfortunately forgot to lock in his haste) and snapping on the glaring overhead lights. Turning towards his friends, Cas can’t help but feel a rush of irritation at them for barging in uninvited and unwanted, completely oblivious to Castiel’s need to be alone. Their abrasive rambunctiousness only served to further infuriate the already on-edge man.   
“Hey, Cas!” Dean smirked, hoisting a six pack proudly. “You ready for the game, man? It’s gonna be-”   
“Dean.” Castiel cut the other off abruptly. His cobalt eyes flashing with barely contained power as he stood rigidly; stiff as a board. “I have no desire to be in your or your brother’s presence at the moment. Please leave.” His clipped tone should have expressed that his words were less of a request than an order to the Winchesters, but they made no move to leave. Dean was most likely just ignoring the barely hidden demand, while Sam at least had the grace to start to murmur something to his big brother, only to be brushed aside as well.   
“C’mon, Castiel, don’t be such a stick in the mud. Just chill out and have a beer with us.”   
Dean really just didn’t get it, did he? How inconsiderate could a person be? Castiel was obviously moments away from having his composure crumble, and Dean couldn’t appear to care less. Why did the man always have to be so maddening?!   
“No, Dean Winchester! The two of you have come into my house, uninvited, and you are now going to leave! Today has been nothing more than one horrid disaster after another, and I wish to be alone!” Castiel’s hands were balled into fists, his entire body tremoring with emotion as he stalked towards the brothers. The powers which he had strived so hard to contain within himself found themselves set free by the fury and agitation coursing through Castiel’s veins, and with every step the man took towards the Winchesters, he grew in size. “I have been mocked and looked down upon and walked over by everyone I have encountered today, and I will not sit here and allow you to do the same!” By the time Novak had reached the brothers, his body was filling the room, and he glared down at them with unadulterated rage. “Now leave!” He shouted, his voice a thunderclap that shook the Winchesters where they stood.   
A stifling shroud of silence descended upon them. No one moved an inch as Castiel kneeled, too large to remain standing, and panted harshly. His gigantic form towered above the two brothers, casting his menacing shadow over the shocked duo.   
But, as Cas glared down at them, he found his previous anger fading away fast. Dean had moved in front of Sam, taking a defensive stance in front of his younger brother (despite how Sam towered above Dean in height). It was the fear though, showing clear as day in their eyes that brought the size shifter out of his haze of fury.   
These were Castiel’s  _friends_ , practically the only ones that Novak had, and Cas had made them scared of him. It was neither Sam nor Dean’s fault that this had happened, it was simply a build-up of stress and exhaustion, and now Cas’s outburst of emotion may be over, but the damage is done.   
Sam and Dean had never before seen Cas show so much emotion, let alone anger, especially not directed towards them. Sure, Novak’s gotten a little moody or agitated in the past, but now the guy who had always been so calm and accommodating was looming over them like a fearsome giant straight out of a fairytale, ready to crush them beneath his fist at any moment. Since when was Castiel able to show any real emotion, let alone grow 30 feet?   
It was Dean’s reaction though, that was truly crushing Cas’s heart. Gone was the warm fondness and cherished comradery, replaced with chilling fright. Dean wasn’t looking at Castiel like he was even human, let alone a friend or even that something more they’d been dancing around for only God knows how long. It was all gone, every single bridge of friendship that had been formed between them burned, Cas was sure of it, and the size shifter was swallowed whole by this sheer and inconceivable loss.   
He just can’t hold back the sobbed apologies that bubble up from his tremoring chest and spill in an uncontrollable torment, huge tears filling Novak’s eyes and streaming down his burning cheeks as Castiel tries and fails to shuffle away from the brothers in the too-small room, wanting to do nothing more than disappear. Things would be so much better for everyone if Cas would just leave them alone.   
But, as Cas was only too familiar with, emotional triggered size shifting isn’t a one-way street. The over-abundance of devastated negativity and downtrodden grief, tinged with self-hatred, was causing Castiel to swiftly loose his height. His shift didn’t stop once he reached normal height though, he kept shrinking even as he found himself able to stumble away from the Winchesters, who now towered over him even more drastically than Castiel had to them before.   
Going from one extreme to the other so rapidly took its toll upon Cas’s energy, and the size shifter found himself weakly stumbling till he finally managed to collapse in the corner of the room opposite to the Winchesters. Slumping down and covering his head with his hands, Castiel’s tiny body shook as he wept silently, unable to face the brothers who had once been his friends. If not for Cas’s lack of control, everything would be as it should be; with the brothers unaware of Castiel’s secret and their friendship intact. But who was really surprised that the size shifter had managed to screw up the one good thing he had attained in this life? Not Castiel, for one.   
Silently watching in shock and wonder as Castiel diminished and dwindled away to a mere handful of inches, Dean’s arms slowly return to his sides from their readied position and Sam moves out from behind Dean to his side. Concern takes the place of terror as their newly tiny friend stumbles away from them, looking completely exhausted and miserable. Even if they hadn’t known what to make of the giant’s tears, the sight of the shrunken man’s sobs was heart wrenching.   
For a moment the stood there, unmoving and unsure, before resolve hardened Dean’s face. Sharing a look with Sam, to which the younger brother nods in agreement (albeit still slightly uncertain) and quietly walks out of the room leaving the two alone, Dean then moves to approach Castiel.   
His steps are soft, slow, and quiet as Dean crosses the room, kneeling near the small, weeping person huddled against the wall. Worrying his lip, the Winchester shuffled back a bit and then lay down on his stomach, doing everything Dean could to make sure that he wouldn’t appear quite so frightening to his already distressed friend. Sure, Cas’s outburst and transformation was unexpected and off-putting and all of that stuff, but it didn’t change the way Dean felt about the guy. Big or small, Dean cared about Castiel. Now if only he could figure out how to calm down this miniature picture of misery.   
“Cas?” Dean asks, worry increasing tenfold when his tiny friend flinched at the mere sound of his voice, curling up even tighter. “Hey, man, are you okay? I- I don’t really know what the Hell just happened, and maybe you can help me understand, but first I need to know if you’re hurt.” If anything, the Winchester’s words only seemed to upset Castiel further, much to Dean’s dismay.   
When it was clear that Cas wasn’t going to respond anytime soon, Dean didn’t know what else to do except reach down and pick the little guy up. But, taking note of the resulting freak-out that followed, maybe that hadn’t been the best judgement call the man could have made. The Winchester only just managed to not drop Castiel as his tiny form writhed and shook and disregarded all concerns of personal well-being in a desperate bid to escape Dean’s hands, sobs giving way to a panicked keen of ceaseless and near-unintelligible apologies.   
This was it. Castiel would be crushed by the very hands that he had wanted to hold so sweetly in his own. He wouldn’t- no, he  _couldn’t_ blame Dean for killing him. But that doesn’t mean Castiel can keep himself from panicking. He honestly couldn’t help but babble apologies and panic and flail and, on top of it all, lose another inch in his distress.   
So when Dean’s thumb comes down to pin Castiel against the giant palm, the tiny size shifter twitches in fear, biting his lip bloody to hold back a scream even as he waits for the sharp pain of death. Hopefully Dean will be merciful and make it quick.   
Seeing Cas freak out so much had Dean freaking out too. He really didn’t want Castiel to hurt himself or for Dean to aggravate any possible injuries further, but he needed to make sure the Cas was okay. As gentle as humanly possible, Dean pressed down against the shifter’s fluttering chest till the miniature figure was securely pressed against his hand. With his friend held in place with such ease, completely and utterly helpless to the trivial amount of effort Dean was putting into restraining Castiel, the Winchester had to take a moment to revel in awe over the power he had over this tiny person. It was the ragged breathing, rapid heartbeat, and glistening tears of Cas that quickly brought Dean back to the reality of this situation. If only he knew how to get through to the little guy.   
Swallowing heavily, Dean cradled Castiel while raising him up to eye level so that he could look closely for any signs that Cas was hurt. Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that his shrunken friend was okay- well, physically at least.   
Unable to bear waiting for the inevitable any longer, Cas summoned his tenacity. “What are you waiting for, Dean?” He was proud that his shout sounded harsh with anger rather than the fear it so shallowly masked. “I’ll not just lay here while you toy with me.”   
And just when the Winchester was pretty sure he couldn’t get any more confused. “Cas, what are you talking about? I’m not gonna mess with you, I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I mean, I know I can be a jerk, but I’m not a dick.” He paused, seeming to grasp for words. At the disbelief painted on Castiel’s tiny face, Dean knew that this was probably as good a time as any to just get everything out in the open. And, who knows? Maybe this will help? Probably not. Oh well. “Look, man, you just- uh, shit- you mean a helluva lot to me-  _God damnit_ \- I’m no good at this stuff, but you know that, right? I’d never hurt you, Cas, cause you’re- you know what? Screw it.” Dean took a deep breath and planted the softest shadow of a kiss on top of Castiel’s small head.   
Cas jolted in shock, the warm pressure of Dean’s lip suddenly illuminating just what Dean had been struggling (and failing) to say. He liked Cas. He, Dean Winchester, man of Castiel’s dreams, actually returns the size shifter’s affections! Cas had never dared to dream that Dean would actually be interested in him as well, always mistook the lingering looks and lack of social boundaries as nothing more than another one of the man’s many quirks, but now Castiel couldn’t help but realize just how blind he had been.   
For a moment, the size shifter managed to forget just how much of a screw up he was and shot up in height of few inches at the happiness that coursed through his veins, practically glowing with joy. “I care for you too, Dean, very much so.” And then the doubts returned. “But, now that you know what I am, how can you still feel the same way?”   
“What you are? Cas, I don’t have clue how you’re growing and shrinking like this, but that doesn’t change who you are to me. You’re still Castiel, ‘cept you’re a little more … extraordinary than I had known.” Dean smiled and brushed a fingertip against the little guy’s side, pulling a chuckle out of the small form.   
“I’m a size shifter. My height is dependent upon my emotional state, which is exactly why I always work to stay level-headed and in control. If I fail to restrain my powers, then they will run rampant. That is not something I can allow, Dean.”   
“No wonder you’ve always just such a stick up your ass, Cas,” he chuckled. “But now that the cat’s out of the bag, you don’t have to go all ‘conceal, don’t feel’ on us. Maybe if you opened up a bit more when it’s just us, then it wouldn’t build up so much again. And now that I officially sound like the world’s biggest chick, would you, I dunno, want to go out with me?” Dean literally rolled his eyes at his own ridiculousness. This should not be so difficult for him. But, in all reality, he was kind of surprised he had managed to confess his feeling in the first place, so maybe he deserved some leniency.   
Having just been admiring how nice it felt to be held like this, especially when he’d never let anyone near him after having shifted, it took Cas a moment to fully register Dean’s words. Once the meaning hit home, Castiel’s heart jumped alongside his height. Managing to curve his powers enough to stop growing just a few feet above normal height, the size shifter beamed down at Dean. “I would love that,” he said sincerely, eyes crinkling in delight at the thought of dating the man before him.   
It’s that moment that Sam chooses to return, walking in on the two men openly googly-eying each other. Failing to hide his smirk, knowing exactly what had happened, Sam cleared his throat to draw their attention. “Hey, Castiel. It’s good to see you nearly back to normal again. Since you two have clearly sorted some stuff out, mind recapping me?” A few minutes later, Sam was up to speed. Then he realized something. “I guess that explains all those times that you just disappeared. Like that one time where that one guy was a total jerk to you and you ran off. We followed after Dean kicked his ass, but when we rounded that corner to go down the alley you had gone down, you were just gone. You size shifted then, right?”   
Cas nodded, clearly embarrassed. “I actually shrunk the moment I stepped into the alley. Had to hide behind a trash can so that I wouldn’t get stepped on.” The very thought that one of them might’ve accidently crushed Castiel underfoot and not even notice shook the brothers, but the size shifter obliviously continued. “It took me a while to get back to normal size and go home. Running into that cat did not help at all, though; there’s not much a three-inch tall person can do to a feline the size of a dragon.”   
Both of the Winchester’s faces went through shock then fear and anger then settled on determined after communicating silently through a shared glance.   
“Cas, there is no way you’re ever allowed to hide your size shifts from us again. We’re here for you, and the last thing we want is to find out that some stray fucking ate you or some shit like that, okay?” Dean questioned sternly.   
A now normal-sized Cas, who had finally regained control over his emotions, smiles at the blatant concern and care radiating from the taller men. “Thank you.”   
Sam laughs and walks off towards the living room to turn on the game, while Dean rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to thank us. We’re here for you.”   
Moving forward, Cas joined his lips with Dean’s in a kiss. The Winchester was quick to reciprocate, drawing Castiel’s lip into his own mouth and sucking gently, their hands roaming. As they deepen the embrace, Dean absentmindedly notices that Cas is growing again, but he really doesn’t mind; there’s just more of Castiel to love.


	32. "Hey Cas, I lost my key down a crack in the floor. Could you go down there and get it for me?"

“Hey, Cas, I lost my key down a crack in the floor. Could you go down there and get it for me?” Dean questioned, even as he picked up his shrunken friend and walked him over to said gap in the floor.   
“Dean, I doubt that Sam would approve of this if he were present. And that ‘crack’ is more of a gaping hole.” Castiel was not fond of the idea of descending into the foreboding darkness that lay beneath the floorboards.   
“What are you; chicken?” Dean taunts childishly while slipping a length of string around Cas’s tiny waist, tying it in a secure knot with deft fingers, making sure it wasn’t too loose nor too tight.   
“I have no relation what so ever to that species of fowl, Dean, but I fail to see how it relates to our current discrepancy.” A small grunt was made when the string tugged his small body up into the air as Dean tested the knot’s strength.   
When the Winchester was satisfied it wasn’t going to untie, he gently lowered Castiel back down to the floor beside the hole. Digging around in his pocket, Dean presented Cas with a small LED pen light which looked absurdly large in the tiny guy’s arms.   
“So this button will shine a laser, but the other is a mini flashlight, so that’ll be the one you’ll want to use, okay, Buddy?” The man gestured to the according buttons while speaking. “Now, once you find the Impala’s key, just grab it and give the string a couple of tugs, and I’ll pull you back up, okay? This’ll be as easy as cake, you’ll be out of their before you know it. Hell, I’ll even get you a giant burger to munch on as a reward. It’s a win-win scenario for both of us now.” As Dean speaks, he lowers Cas down into the hole, steadily letting more and more string slip down until he can no longer see his tiny friend in the darkness below.   
Grumbling under his breath the entire journey down (a human mannerism he had picked up from the Winchesters), Castiel fumbled with the pen light once he landed on his feet. The air down here was damp and musty, with an eerie silence lingering in the dark surrounding Cas. Finally managing to turn on the LED light, the miniature person set forth into the darkness, shining the beam this way and that in hopes of glimpsing the misplaced key. The sooner he found the key, the sooner Dean would pull him out of here, so Cas may as well try and get it over with.   
Up top, Dean’s completely focused on feeding Castiel more string when needed and waiting for the signal to pull him back out, so he doesn’t notice Sam until the man speak up from directly behind him. “Dean, what are you do- Oh, you found the rat’s nest, too? I’ve been meaning to buy some traps for it, but we’ve been pretty busy with trying to find a cure for Cas, so, you know.”   
But, at the sound of his own name, Dean jumped, startled, the string slipping through his fingers and disappearing down the hole. Just before he could start cursing up a storm, Sam’s words process, and he quickly rounds on his brother, eyes wide with fear.   
“Wait, what?! A rat’s nest? You’re telling me that we’ve got a fucking rat’s nest in the bunker while Cas is fucking three inches tall and it just slipped your mind to mention that?!”   
Dean’s majorly freaking out and Sam doesn’t know why. “Well, it’s not like you’ve been pitching in with the research for a cure, have you? No, Dean, you’ve been too busy screwing around with Cas to focus on how serious and dangerous this curse is. You know that his mojo isn’t working right now, so it’s really important to get him back to normal size so that he isn’t at risk to get stepped on or something!” Breathing deeply to forcefully calm himself, Sam refused to let Dean work him up so easy. Take the higher road and all that. “Speaking of, where is Cas?”   
The look on Dean’s face said it all, and Sam followed his brother’s distressed gaze back to the hole leading to the rat’s nest. “No way,” Sam denied, “even you’re not that much of an idiot. No fucking way! I cannot believe you, Dean!”   
“Shut up, Sam, I didn’t know! Right now we just need to focus on getting him out, okay?”   
Sam scowled, but nodded sharply in agreement, sending up a silent prayer that Cas wouldn’t pay the price for Dean’s stupidity just this once.   
Meanwhile, Cas has just found the key and is about to pull on the string to signal that he’s ready to be lifted out, only to notice that the length of twine has got completely lax. Tightening his grip on the key and light, Cas refuses panic and starts the walk back to the spot he got lower down from. This journey is far more foreboding than the one going into the darkness, knowing now that Dean is unable to pull him out at a moment’s notice. This wasn’t worth a giant hamburger.   
Then the noises started. A quiet squeaking and skittering out in the darkness, beyond the reach of the light’s beam. Castiel tried to convince himself it was his imagination, but he picked up his pace all the same.   
Finally standing directly beneath the single beam of light shining down from the hole in the floor above, Cas’ focus was split between listening to the frantic ruckus taking place above and the Winchester’s thundering, frantic voices, and searching the dark for the ever approaching creatures that surrounded him on all sides.   
When one stepped into the reach of Castiel’s light, the tiny man froze in fear. At least as tall as him, a scarred and scrappy rat stepped forth, its yellowed teeth glinting in the light.   
“Dean!” Cas called up, hefting the key like a sword. “Dean, help!”   
“We’re out of time!” Dean shouted above the floor at Sam, having searched fervently for more string to lower so that Cas could climb up, but ending up entirely unsuccessful.   
“I know!” Sam said back, ripping off his flannel and wrapping it around his fist.   
“What are you doing! Now is not the time, Sam!”   
“Shut up, Dean,” Sam retorted as he knelt down beside the hole and brought back his arm, then punched the floor with all the force he could muster. The flooring cracked, but didn’t give way, so he punched again, and again, and again.   
The hair on the back of his neck raising, Cas managed to duck down just in time as a rat leapt at him from behind. The beast soared over him head and collided with the wall of rodents in front of the tiny angel, all of which screeched angrily at the fight their pray was putting up, even as the floor above then shook and trembled with the force of Sam’s blows. Just as the rats converged upon Castiel as one, the flooring above broke under the strength of the hunter’s hits.   
Not wasting a moment, Sam’s cloth covered hand reached down into the turbulent mass of rodents and encircled Castiel, pulling the tiny man out of there. Moving to examine Cas as Dean sent the scattering rats flying with well-placed kicks, the youngest Winchester breathed a sigh of relief to see that Cas had only attained a minimum amount of scratches.   
Now that the crisis was averted and the rats dispersed, Sam turned back to Dean, giving him the look. Dean groaned, knowing that Sam was still going to give him a piece of his mind, but still moved closer to check on Cas himself.   
“Sorry, Cas,” Dean murmured, abashed.   
Cas scowled up at him for a moment, before softening. Holding up the Impala’s key, Castiel grinned at Dean. “I believe that you owe me a burger, Dean.”


	33. Hurt Sam, Guilty Dean

It was the third day of Sam’s never-ending nagging towards Dean to check this and research that, all in hopes of finding a cure for the shrunken younger brother’s curse, and the eldest Winchester was at the end of his rope. Dean’s been doing pretty good at keeping his cool and being lenient to his Sammy, who was obviously in a really sucky situation, but his patient only stretches so far. So it’s not really that much of a surprise when he finally snaps at Sam when the little guy criticized Dean’s work effort  _for the fifth time in the last hour_ .   
Moving faster than the tiny man could react to, Dean solidly flicked Sam in the shoulder, seeking a vent to his frustration. The force of the blow sent Sam stumbling back a few steps, but when nothing too dramatic happened, the big brother was satisfied that he hadn’t seriously hurt Sammy, just taught him a little lesson- a lesson that wasn’t about to stop there.   
Momentarily leaving the table to shuffle through some belongings in a desk, Dean returned victorious with an empty Altoids tin in hand. Reaching down and grabbing Sam, who had been resolutely ignoring Dean by moping over his shoulder, acting all hurt to undoubtedly try and gain Dean’s sympathy and guilt, the small man shouted out at Dean’s rough treatment, but the older hunter paid him no attention.   
Flipping open the lid with one hand, the eldest Winchester put Sam inside none too gently, laying the miniature body flat on its back and twisting and bending his small limbs to make Sam fit in the cramped space, blocking out any protests or pleas that may or may not have been made- Dean honestly doesn’t remember, he wasn’t paying attention to Sam at that moment.   
Once Sam was more or less fit into the metal container, the big brother closed the lid with finality. For a moment, he just stood there; cherishing the absence of his little brother’s annoying voice for the first time in days. Dean rolled his eyes, knowing that he still needed to keep looking for a reverse spell, but he just couldn’t even think about letting Sam out anytime soon. He needed a break and was sure that Sam could just deal for a while (not like the tiny guy had much of a choice). Dean carelessly tossed the tin onto the table so that it bounced and skittered a ways towards the middle. Then he moved back to his research, snatching a beer on the way, and settled down for what was sure to be a long sit down, with Sam slipping further and further from mind with every hour that passed.   
Sam didn’t know how long he’d been trapped all alone in this tight, small, dark metal prison with the air steadily growing more humid and harder to breathe and what little space he had getting smaller and smaller until any twitch at all had Sam bumping into the sides of the tin, because all the shrunken hunter did know was that his shoulder was most definitely dislocated from Dean’s flick and Dean had trapped him in here and left him and might not ever come back and Sam just wants  _out_ but he can’t get out because it’s impossible and he’s too small and weak to push open the lid with only one functioning arm and his legs are totally useless along with the rest of his body except for hurting and aching and cramping from being stuck in one spot for far too long and Sam  _swore_ that he’d never bother Dean again or get on his nerves if his big brother would just let him out- just  _please_ let him out, he’ll be good, he promises, he promises, just please-  _please_ .   
It had gotten really late- or early, Dean thought as he glanced at his watch- by the time the Winchester was ready to call it a night. Standing up and stretching luxuriously, the man yawned and went to lay down in his bed, cherishing the comfortable mattress beneath him. Turning off the light, Dean sleepily murmured, “Night, Sammy.”   
And then he remembered.   
Once moment he was laying comfortably in bed, and the next he was launching himself out from underneath the covers; sprinting off to the table he had so horribly left his little brother trapped on for hours now. The mere thought of how Dean had completely forgotten about Sammy and almost left him in their not only all day, but night as well, had his gut twisting queasily with guilt. Dean’s anger and agitation had long since melted away, and now all he felt was like the worst big brother ever.   
Flicking on the nearest light, Dean rushed over to the table. There it lay, that stupid fucking Altoids tin, and the hunter almost couldn’t bring himself to open it and see just how this unjust punishment had hurt Sammy. He gathered his resolve and carefully grasped the container, careful to not jostle it more than necessary as Dean pried open the top. What he saw shook him deeply.   
Inside lay Sammy, deathly pallid, covered in a sheen of sweat, and completely still. For a moment Dean panicked and feared the worst, tilting the tin so that the limp body tumbled out into his clammy palm. The resulting scream caused Dean to jump, but he managed to keep himself from dropping his little brother. At least he knew that Sam was still alive. That’s something, right? Alive is good; he can work with alive.   
“Sam? Sammy, are you okay?” Dean’s voice cracked with emotion as he watched tremors begin to wrack his younger brother’s small frame. “C’mon, answer me, man; you’re really freaking me out here.”   
Miniscule, glistening eyes hesitantly looked up to meet Dean’s, the little guy’s chest fluttering as he inhaled shakily, clutching at his injured shoulder all the while. Sam only managed to maintain eye contact for a moment before he looked away from the looming hunter.   
All of Dean’s Big Brother alarms were blaring right now, and he found his eyes drawn to the shoulder that Sam was obviously trying to protect … the shoulder that Dean had flicked earlier. But … But, Dean hadn’t thought he’d hurt Sam by doing that, he had just been … Now that he was really looking at it though, Dean could see the dark bruises coloring the swollen skin and muscles, and he closed his free hand into a painfully tight fist. This was all his fault; Sam had obviously had some type of perpetual panic attack while being stuck in the tin for so long, had a dislocated shoulder from hours ago, undoubtedly was enduring agonizing muscle cramps from the sudden change in position after being unable to move for so long, and was now acting as if Dean was going to shut him back away again any moment now. Not like Dean deserved to be thought of any differently at this point, considering what he had done to Sammy.   
Knowing that this isn’t something he’d be able to fix with an ice-cream cone and some half-assed apologies, Dean focused on what he could help with. Moving to the kitchen, the elder brother grabbed a junk of ice and quickly wrapped it in some plastic wrap lying around, then handed it to Sam.   
“Put that on your shoulder. It should help bring down the swelling enough so that we can pop it back into place.” Dean said in a voice softened by worry, guilt, self-hate, and about a hundred other shitty emotions.   
Sam nodded in response, hissing at the cool touch of ice against the dislocated shoulder. They stayed like that for a few minutes, silent, before Dean brought up heading to bed so they could get some rest (not like the big brother would actually be able to sleep anytime soon with this craptastic day on his mind, but Sammy should really get some sleep- the kid deserves it) and, once again, Sam agreed silently.   
It was when Dean moved thoughtlessly to slide Sam into his front pocket that Sam really gave him a reaction. The two of them had previously agreed that even though it wasn’t the most comfortable for Sammy, that it’d keep him safest while they traveled together, but the youngest brother seemed to have other inclinations now as he shouted out a plea for Dean to stop.   
Immediately, Dean froze his action, looking down at the tiny figure shaking in his hand. “What’s wrong, Sammy?”   
His little brother was obviously uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed now that he was no longer set to be put in the pocket. A light blush covered his cheeks as he said, “It’s too small. I can’t- please don’t-”   
“Since when do small places bug you?” Dean interrupted, saving Sam from fumbling around with his words when the tiny hunter was already having a tough enough day.   
“Since you put me a box and kept me there until I was sure that you were going to leave me there, Dean.” The accusation that tainted Sam’s tone stung, but Dean didn’t fault Sam for it, not with the truth that rung clear in those words.   
Throat tightening, Dean’s head bobbed in agreement and he carefully cradled Sam in his hands all the way to the nightstand. Letting his younger brother climb off by himself, the older hunter dutifully waited for Sam to get into his bed before switching off the light and waiting for the first of many sleepless nights to pass.   
A few days later, they’re at least able to talk about it now, tossing some jokes out every once in a while. They’re still working past it, but this isn’t the first bump in the road the brother’s relationship has come across, and it certainly won’t be the last. After everything they’ve overcome together, they won’t let this be the end of them, but that doesn’t make it instantly better.   
Dean’s been picking up the signs, learning the new do’s and don’ts for Sammy. The little guy now had a killer case of claustrophobia, which made his shrinkage a simultaneous blessing and curse; since the world is such a bigger place now to him, there’s a ton of extra space everywhere now, but anytime they had to actually go anywhere, the event would come back to bite them.   
So maybe things weren’t perfect yet- maybe they never have been- but they were getting better. Baby steps, right? Dean can do that. For Sammy, Dean can do most anything.

***

It only took about half an hour for it to become blatantly apparent that Sam wasn’t going to be able to get any sleep either, if the way he continuously tossed and turned had anything to say about it. Or, rather he tried to toss and turn, only to stifle pained gasps the moment his muscles moved. As brutal as being stuck in that box had been, this was barely better; Sam could hardly even breath without his entire body protesting.   
Just when the little guy had resigned himself to laying there in misery, did a large, warm hand scoop him up from where he lay. He jolted in surprise; a reaction Sam immediately regretted. Staying as still as possible, breathing through the pain, Sam glared up at his big brother from where he lay. Hadn’t Dean messed with him enough for one day? Obviously not. But before Sam could voice those thoughts and a few choice words for his dick of a brother, his voice tapered off into a moan.   
Ecstasy and agony warred against each other as Dean’s giant fingers kneaded the stiff, aching muscles of Sam’s body. One by one, the big brother picked up each of Sam’s toothpick sized limbs between his thumb and forefinger and rub with an incredible amount of care and precision. The ridiculously ginormous hunter shouldn’t even be able to hold Sam like this without snapping the tiny man’s bones, but here they are; with Dean gradually easing away Sam’s pain, millimeter by millimeter, muscle by muscle. Dean even took the time to work on Sam’s practically miniscule hands and feet, splaying the itty-bitty appendages with the tips of his finger and rubbing oh so carefully.   
By this time, Sam was putty in Dean’s over-sized hand, and with every soreness leaving his shrunken body, so did an inkling of anger towards his big brother.   
Then, with the same amount of gentleness he had shown so far, Dean propped up Sam’s body so that his back was flat against his thumb. Curling the rest of the hand’s fingers forward to massage the younger brother’s front (making sure to teasingly tickle the little guy’s belly for just a moment before moving back to resume their soothing touches), while the thumb kneaded along Sam’s back and spine. And, God, when he brought the fingers from his other hand over to precisely rub and push and pull along Sam’s shoulders and neck, the miniature Winchester swore that he was gonna die from how fan-fucking-tastic this all felt.   
Until Dean popped his shoulder back into its socket. The pain was fresh and sharp, but it faded away quickly as the big brother brought Sammy’s attention back to the ministrations of his fingers, the colossus always making sure to skim around the damaged tissue, knowing that no matter how gentle he was, any touch was likely to only hurt.   
That’s how Sam fell asleep; cradled in his brother’s hand as Dean massaged all of Sam’s worries and pains away. So, even though Sam may not have fully forgiven Dean yet, the younger brother knows that he’ll never be able to hold a grudge against him for long.


	34. Sappy Drabble

Sometimes, when I’m feeling sappy, I like to think about Sam setting up Dean and Cas, but things going so horribly wrong that the fluff that follows is in completely ridiculous proportions.  
Like, just think of poor Sammy, always having to put up with those two hopeless star-crossed lovers moon over each other day after day after endless freakin’ day for _how many years now_?! You’re in no place to judge him when he finally snaps and decides that _enough is enough_ and screeches at the top of his lungs like a moose possessed for them to make out already before he _makes them_.  
But since Dean is far too butt-sore about chick-flick moments and completely emotionally constipated, of course that grown-ass hunter acts like an utter child; working himself up into an indignant fury and throwing around harsh words completely refusing his totally obvious feelings for Cas!  
So nothing good comes of that, and Cas just feels kinda sad and rejected because Dean clearly just stated that he _does not_ like Cas the same way the angel likes him, but Dean’s kinda sad too ‘cause he’s not with Cas, who he actually _does_ love but he’s too hung up over his straight-white-man complex that he can’t just let himself be happy for once, and Sammy is still going effing crazy with all of the angsty eye-sex he’s being subjected to!  
That’s when Sam decides to pull out the big guns and go full-on Love Doctor mode- if his brother and his brother’s angels won’t just admit it, then Sam will drag it out of them by any means necessary. Three beers and one determined trip into the depths of the Men of Letter’s archives, Sam stumbles across a spell that he _thinks_ says something about decreasing the distance between people. (If you don’t see where this is going yet, then you haven’t checked out everything else I’ve posted on this site yet.)  
So, to cut this short ( _hehehehehe_ ), Sam uses that admittedly-slightly sketchy spell, cause he’s getting pretty desperate by this point- he just can’t deal with this sexual tension anymore!- but instead of diminishing the emotional distance between Cas and Dean, it diminishes his brother’s distance from the floor, leaving Castiel unaffected thanks to his angel-immunity and all that jazz.  
But, Dean’s not just shrunk, he’s brought down to a size so super crazy tiny, so _miniscule_ that Sam can barely even see him, which means that Cas is immediately assigned the position of constantly looking after, caring and translating for Dean, because it’s only thanks to his angel mojo that he can really see/hear Dean, not to mention be careful and precise enough with his actions to not kill the little guy. If not for Castiel, Dean would have been nothing more than a smear on the floor; Sam didn’t have a clue what had happened when Dean had first shrunk, and had been about to step on his little big brother when Cas shoved Sam bodily away in the nick of time, saving the shrunken hunter’s life. (It took a couple minutes for Sam to believe that Cas was actually talking to his brother and not just some speck of dirt or teeny tiny insect.)

Think of Cas shielding Dean from any and all breezes or air-currents that could steal away his tiny hunter. Think of Cas bringing Dean the smallest, most precisely prepared tiny foods for his shrunken charge. Think of Cas caressing the miniscule hunter’s back with such a small, careful motion as he sooths Dean to sleep. Think of Cas finding himself reminded of just how much he cherishes the human that he holds in his very hands. Think of Dean being completely in awe of the magnificence that is Castiel’s unfathomably large form in a world too big to comprehend. Think of Dean exploring Cas’ body, admiring all of the details that he had never noticed before and falling in love once again with this incredibly kind being.   
Sam is too big now- _far_ too big to really interact much with his brother, but he soon finds out that that isn’t necessarily as bad as he’d originally thought; after about two weeks of searching for a way to fix his screw up, while Cas tends to a frustrated, bored, and reasonably scared Dean who is not-so-secretly reveling in all the attention and constant contact with his angel, the very first thing that Dean does when he’s returned to his normal height is to launch himself at a very surprised Castiel and capture that angel’s lips with his own.  
The youngest Winchester couldn’t help but smirk at his success, even if it hadn’t quite been achieved in the way he would have originally thought. So, even if Dean promptly flipped him off in response to any and all short-jokes, Sam could congratulate himself on a job well done and sleep peacefully.  
That is, until Gabriel started hanging around more often, and Dean got that certain devious gleam in his green eyes.

On a side note, I usually really don’t like miniscule shrinking that much at all, but this is just about my only exception :P Any other scenarios are just too dangerous for the boy for me to enjoy.


	35. G/t Shorts

#1  
Dean cursed the oblivious seraph-turned-human above him, squirming and wriggling and struggling to get out of the dry macaroni noodle he’d gotten stuck in as Castiel was busy discovering the ‘wonders’ of arts and crafts.

#2  
The brothers shared a quick look before turning back to the three-inch-tall hunter looking up at them eagerly, arms open wide and waiting as Garth clearly expects Dean and Sam to hug his tiny self like nothing at all was wrong.

#3  
Dean whooped elatedly as he slid down the slope of powdery crushed ice, very pleased with himself for convincing Sammy to grind up a bunch of ice in the blender and make this mini snow wonderland for him. Being tiny was hard enough without dealing with the sweltering heat of summer. Glancing up at a strange muffled crunching sound, Dean only had a half-moment for his jaw to drop and eyes to widen before Sam dropped a mountainous handful of icy powder on top of his shrunken brother, burying him with a stifled yelp.

#4  
Cas sent a withering glare at Dean, who was failing miserably at holding back his laughter. Hearing his brother enter the room, Dean waved Sam over and gestured grandly at their shrunken friend, clad in tiny cardboard wings and a fuzzy yellow pipe-cleaner halo, secured to the top of a miniature Christmas tree by a firmly knotted string. “Check it out, Sammy; I found an angel for the tree.”

#5  
Dean moaned miserably from where he lay collapsed on the table, stuffed to the brim with pie and regret. Cas hushed him soothingly, softly rubbing the small man’s bloated stomach with the tip of his finger, offering comfort to his poor, foolish charge who had attempted to eat an entire slice of pie- a dessert larger than the man himself.

#6

Sam snickered softly as he trained his phone’s camera on Dean, determined to not missing a moment recording what was surely his finest blackmail yet as his shrunken brother swam in a bowl of beer, singing drunkenly.

#7

Sam was seriously regretting wearing his socks to bed when he woke up the next morning completely surrounded by its stiff, smelly walls of fabric. Now if he could only find his way out.

#8

The Winchester brothers were not amused to find out that Castiel, whose size was shrunken and wings revealed, was attracted to bright lights just like moths are. At first, they hadn’t thought much of it, but when Cas dove towards a bug zapper with glazed over eyes, Sam and Dean were decidedly displeased. 

#9

You know, when Gabriel had politely requested (annoyingly pestered) Sam to make him a peanut butter and honey sandwich, he really hadn’t thought about how easily it would be to get stuck to it, especially when he was too small to pull away from the sticky sweetness’ grasp. But, as Castiel ignorantly lifted the sandwich (and the tiny archangel glued to it) into the air with a hungry gleam in those ocean-blue eyes, Gabe found himself wishing that he had.

#10

Hanging out with Charlie was always a ton of fun, even if she only stood a couple of inches tall. Oh well, that fiery little redhead would never let something as small as some shrinkage put a damper on her spirit, so as often as she could drag her guys away from all of that hunter’s business, it’s be off to the toy castle Dean had bought her where the tiny Queen of the nerds would defend her kingdom against the invading giants, bravely wielding her plastic sandwich-sword and riding her trusty plushy dragon out to face the fearsome Winchester titans!

#11

Think of a small Cas who always sits on Dean’s right shoulder and pointedly _does not_ understand that reference.  
 _Or_  
Picture Cas hearing that the best place to hide valuable things while traveling is in your shoe, so he tries putting the brothers there while they go find the witch who whammied them.

#12

Bobby did not sign up for this. He somehow got stuck with the job of babysitting a pair of shrunken Winchesters, both of whom have been blaming each other for their lack of height nonstop.  
“It was all your fault we’re like this!”  
“My fault?! You found the case!”  
“But you touched the tome!”  
“You didn’t translate the warning label properly!”  
Bobby does his best to ignore them, rolling his eyes overhead and muttering. “Idjits.”

#13

“Look,” Dean whispered, eying up the door that his brother had just left through, “I don’t like keeping you hidden away like this either, but neither of us want Robo Sam to get his soulless paws on your shrunken ass. Who knows how he’d treat you without his conscious keeping him in check? There’s only so much I can do, so you’re just gonna have to bear with me until I can figure out how to kick this curse, alright?”  
But before his tiny friend could reply, Sam returned, and Dean, in a moment of panic, shoved the miniature person down his pants and into his boxers, withdrawing empty-handed. Sam’s cold and calculating hazel eyes roamed over Dean’s crotch for a moment before moving on with indifference. Dean was caught between being relieved that Sam didn’t care enough to question his older brother’s strangeness, and freaked out that he had a tiny, writhing, pissed off human being stuck down his pants.


	36. "Please don't be scared of me. I'm not dangerous, I'm just big."

Sam was not taking the loss of his brother well. Sure, every Borrower knows the dangers of living in a world where you are so drastically outsized by everything. How their kind constantly struggles to barely even get by on stale crumbs and improvised supplies. Not to mention how practically the entire world is out to get them; whether it was pets, rodents, bugs, and humans in particular. So it really shouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise when one day, Dean went on a basic supplies run and just … didn’t come back.  
At first, the youngest Winchester couldn’t accept it. For two days he waited, refusing to give up hope- give up on Dean. Then Sam braved the world outside of their walls, vigilantly scouring the human’s house for any sign of his brother. But there was nothing, nothing at all; not a single sign as to what had happened to his big brother.  
When Sam returned to their- his, he was the only one who lived here anymore- home in the walls, he tried to ignore how it was almost like Dean had never existed at all. Borrowers didn’t have many possessions, let alone those- what do humans call them? Pictures?- to bring back memories of better times or even just prove that a person had ever lived in the first place.  
With Dean gone, Sam hopelessly abandoned himself to a deep, dark depression that overwhelmed his tiny being and dragged him down into a bottomless pit of desolate despair. Sam could barely bring himself to breath, let alone eat or drink, but he kept on living anyways because he knew that Dean wouldn’t have wanted his little brother to just give up like this.  
It was with that thought in mind that Sam managed to drag himself away from his makeshift bed of rags and out of the walls to refill his food stock which had run out two days ago. Now, if the young Borrower had been in his right state of mind, he would have remembered hearing the human that had strangely lingered right outside his home’s entrance for the last few days now- how it rarely seemed to leave and kept up a constant dialogue, even though Sam was sure that there were no other humans around- but the little guy was having a hard enough time getting up in the morning, let alone puzzle about the bizarre ways of humans. So when Sam finally convinced his legs to dejectedly carry his across the stretching floorboards towards the kitchen, there was little else on his mind besides his brother and not a smidge of extra precautions taken towards staying out of sight.  
Still, grieving or not, when Sam felt that first footstep’s resonance travel through the flooring to rattle Sam’s tiny bones, he froze. The human that lived here wasn’t supposed to be home for at least another couple of hours, but as the tremors grew closer and closer, the Borrower knew that he needed to get hidden, and quick. Before Sam could so much as dive behind a nearby couch, a vast shadow fell over his frozen form.  
Not daring to waste another moment, the Winchester turned on his heel and sprinted for cover beneath the couch. Unfortunately for him, the human had obviously noticed him by this point, and was giving chase.  
Sam could hear the ridiculously loud shouts booming through the air like thunder from above; “Hey! Hold up- just, stop!”  
_Ha_ , Sam thought as he sprinted alongside the wall, flinching as the human simply physically moved the entire piece of furniture with its immense strength in its effort to reach the Borrower. _As if, human_.  
But even as the Winchester ran for his life, he couldn’t bite back the sudden and unwelcome sharp burn of emotion in his hazel eyes. That voice, it was just so painfully familiar, so much like … No, it couldn’t be. It was just Sam’s stupid head making him think that the human sounded like him, because that was impossible.  
He’s in the home stretch now- the hole to the walls is right there, but before he can reach it, a giant booted foot slams down right in front of it, inches away from Sam himself. The tiny person skitters to a stop, but Sam’s just not quick enough and he slams bodily into the shoe. Dazed, the Borrower falls to the ground. Craning his neck to look up, up, up, up towards the human’s face, Sam skitters away backwards from the foot that could effortlessly crush him, but all he sees is the hand reaching down for him.  
Sam screams in terror when the fist closes around him, pinning his arms and legs to his side so that the Borrower can’t so much as squirm in an effort to escape. He’s lifted far too high, far too fast, and Sam chokes on his screams. His trembling makes up for the silence; the Winchester is practically vibrating in this human’s hand, just waiting for that final, devastating crunch of his spine when the giant squeezes him just a bit tighter.  
But it doesn’t come. Why doesn’t it come?  
“Hey, calm down,” that treacherous voice rumbles around him, clawing at Sam’s memories and tugging at his heart strings. “Just breathe, okay? Take a breath with me, dude.”  
A vortex of air was sucked past Sam and into the giant’s lungs, tugging at his clothes and whipping past his hair. For some reason this human was trying to calm Sam, who was reasonably on the tipping point of a panic attack, and it was doing it the same way that his big brother always had. If anything, the familiar breathing technique only served to worsen Sam’s panic. Shutting his eyes tight, Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at the human who literally held him captive.  
“No, c’mon, don’t do that, Sammy. Open your eyes and look at me, little bro,” the human commanded gently, his voice low and soothing despite the powerful volume inherent to it.  
Sam’s eyes snapped open, wide in disbelief, as the giant’s words registered. For the first time, the Borrower truly looked at the human.  
He was sure that this was a trick- some horrible trick being played on him by his eyes or the universe or something, because this human looked exactly like Dean. Down to the very last freckle and strand of hair and tone of voice and concerned green eyes and the fact that he _knew Sam’s name_.  
The tiny Winchester was gaping like a fish out of water, unable to comprehend the sight before him. It couldn’t be him, because he was _dead_ , and definitely _not a human_ , but Sam couldn’t keep himself from calling out “Dean?” like a prayer.  
And there it was, that quirked smile that Sam knows so well that it _aches_. “Hey, Sammy.”  
Fuck Sam if he wasn’t tearing up now, because somehow his brother was right here. “Dean,” his voice cracking harshly, “how- what-”  
“I don’t have a clue, man. One second I’m looking for food and the next I’m a thousand effin’ feet tall and can’t fit into the walls.” Sam almost laughed historically at the thought of Dean trying to squeeze into the hole at this size. Almost.  
“Could you, could you put me down, Dean?” Sam asked hesitantly, very conscious of how Dean could easily snap one of his limbs with just a twitch of a finger while Sam was held like this.  
Dean seemed to realize this too, and he nodded sharply before quickly kneeling to put Sam down on the ground. The Borrower practically tumbled out of his fist, head dizzy and stomach twisting at the abrupt drop. Sam didn’t think Dean even realized just how massive his actions were to his little brother at this point; they were both used to things being so big around them, that even the thought of another person being so small compared to them was mind boggling.  
Seeing how unstable Sam was on his feet, Dean moved to help steady him; his hand outstretched, but Sam flinched back, falling to the ground as he tripped over his own feet in his haste.  
The older brother’s brow furrowed and reluctantly withdrew his hand to run it through his short dirty blond hair. It felt wrong for something- somebody so huge to look so helpless. “Please don’t be scared of me. I’m not dangerous, I’m just big. You can trust me, Sammy.” Dean’s green eyes shown with sincerity.  
“I know, Dean,” Sam assured instantly. “It’s just, you’re so big now. You’re a human, Dean.” Hurt flashed in his brother’s eyes, and Sam hurried to continue. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t trust you, I’m just going to need a little bit to wrap my head around this, you know? I thought you were dead, but instead you’re a giant. One wrong move and you could kill me.” Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam rushed onwards. “I know that you would never mean to, but I’m just not used to that even being a possibility. But you’re still my brother, and I’m not going to leave you now that you’re here.”  
The pure relief on Dean’s face gave Sam the courage to walk forward to the hand splayed flat on the ground not too far from himself, and place his own hand on it. The comparison was a powerful one, showing just how miniscule Sammy was now to his big brother, but that wasn’t enough to scare Sam off. No, now that he had his brother back, Sam wasn’t about to give him up anytime soon- height be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while the ending to that last ask with the Borrower bros is all cute and stuff, let’s just get real here for a moment ;P (you can all thank Peacejojo for this little addition)  
> There’s no way that Dean can just stay in this house now that he’s human-sized, seeing as it’s not his house, so if Sammy plans on staying with his big bro (which he does, of course), then the Borrower is gonna need to pack up and leave real quick before the real owner comes home.  
> This would be an adventure of all different types of firsts.  
> Like Sam’s first time riding in Dean’s pocket, and Dean interacting in a world built for his size.  
> Dean’s first time coming face to face with a human being. His instincts would be screaming at him to run away and hide somewhere small and dark, but there’s no way he’d fit into any of his usual hiding places at this size. So, instead he’s stuck, totally freezing up and hiding Sammy very conspicuously, and takes part in the world’s most tense and awkward talk ever with a kindly, old, well-to-do, grandmotherly lady.  
> Also Dean’s first time of allowing a cat to get anywhere near him. He’d have been relaxing beneath a tree with his tiny Borrower bro on his shoulder, taking a break, when suddenly the rumbling sound of a purr would fill the air. Looking down, Dean would see this fuzzy little thing rubbing up against his leg. At first, he’s just confused, but then he realizes what it is, and tenses up. But the cat is super sweet and kind and very persistently looking for pets and luvs and eventually melts Dean’s heart. That is, until it sets its eyes upon Sammy and lunges, then Dean fricken’ lobs that cat across the park.


	37. Continuation of Tiny!Dean Giant!Sam bath scene

To say that Dean was uncomfortable with this situation could barely be classified as a mere understatement. Dean was sore, and exhausted, and mentally scarred for life, and violated, and used, and up his baby brother’s ass. Even though the soap which had accompanied the tiny man inside helped to block out any _other_ odors, Dean was still having a pretty hard time finding a silver lining to being trapped inside of Sammy’s rectum.  
But, if Dean thought that this personal Hell was over when Sam got out of the bath, then he was sorely mistaken. After enduring the awful experience of the push and squeeze and pull and squeeze and repeat of Sam walking, the world around him (aka the walls of muscle that are his brother’s ass) clenches tight suddenly and inexplicably, knocking the breath out of Dean’s lungs in their unforgiving clasp.  
What was essentially an all-powerful grip upon Dean’s tiny body, was nothing more than Sam reflexively contracting his ass as anticipation floods his veins. Having arrived in his room, the younger hunter makes sure to lock the door behind him; the last thing he wants is for Dean to barge in on him right now (oh, if only he knew). Sam was quick to recover the items he needed from the secret hiding spot he had created in one of the walls of his room. He found it necessary to have such a place or otherwise face snoopy big brothers finding certain objects that would make for a series of very awkward and humiliating pranks, conversations, and, undoubtedly, blackmail. Toy in hand, Sam eagerly assumed position on his bed, lubing it up (not too much- he liked the burning stretch) and moving it to his ready and willing hole.  
For a moment, everything fell blessedly still, and Dean thought that maybe he’d finally caught a break. Dean began to struggle once more against these lax walls, thinking that maybe he could draw Sam’s attention now that the younger Winchester wasn’t otherwise occupied. This was quickly proven wrong when Sam’s ass tightened brutally around him again, before relaxing.  
Not needing to be taught the same lesson twice, the inch and a half tall man simply lay there, resigning himself to staying inside of his oblivious brother’s ass until an opportunity to escape presented itself. He never anticipated what would happen next.  
Suddenly, he was no longer alone in Sam’s ass. Something about twice as thick as he was (which really isn’t that much, all things considered) and far longer slid up into Sam and right past Dean, pushing the shrunken man up against Sam’s inner lining, but nothing too drastic. Dean was confused at this point more than anything else; if this whatever-it-is was for pleasure (that’s the only reason why Dean could guess anyone would ever purposefully stick something up their ass for), then it really wasn’t doing much. Not that it’s something he ever really wanted to consider, but maybe Sammy-boy should invest in some better sex toys.  
And then it got bigger. With the hissing sound of air being pumped into it, the sex toy fucking _grew_ , leaving Dean with just a little less space. Before Dean could really react- get pissed, anxious, or even afraid- the thing inflated again and again. That’s when Dean realized exactly what this toy was. His eyes widened and jaw dropped and he startled flailing around in earnest because he did not want to stick around for this show any longer than he already had, especially not when-  
You know, there’s a lot of people who consider inflatable dildos as a little out there, but Sam loves them. The way that they leave him completely filled without a centimeter of space left, always stretching him out on the inside, is such an incredible turn-on to him. It’s with a special type of satisfaction that Sam closes his hand around the pump again, listening to the hiss of air as the dildo inside of him only got bigger. And, for some reason he couldn’t explain, it felt as if his ass was almost tingling as a result, the sensation only growing stronger the more he inflated his toy. Sam groaned, low and deep in his chest as he had to grip the base of his weeping cock to keep from coming; he wanted this to last as long as possible.  
How Dean is still able to breath is beyond him. At this point, he’s pinned tight to the straining and trembling walls of Sam’s ass, and Dean’s pretty sure that all his kinky bastard of a brother would have to do is look down to be able to see the impression of his tiny body pushed tight against his abdomen. At least the inflatable fucking dildo has gone completely taught at this point, so there’s no way Sam could make it any bigger even if he wanted to. That knowledge in mind, the shrunken brother had thought that the it couldn’t possibly get any worst.  
But then the pushing started.  
Sam (who was most definitely gonna get his pervy ass kicked as soon as Dean was out of it and bigger than a gummi bear) was pushing and probing the visually noticeable bulge the dildo made on his body, and, of course, his fingers seemed to seek Dean out with every press.  
Logically, Dean knew that he should just lay there and take it, but his anger flared back up again and he fought against the touches, unwilling to be used as Sam’s masturbation buddy. This only made is so much more enjoyable for Sam, whose moans reverberated through his body, rumbling around Dean’s small form.  
Fisting his erection and feeling out the protruding, firm shape that his toy molded his body around. A rising wave of heat and pleasure was overtaking Sam, his breathing rate going up a notch so that harsh pants were echoing out in the sex-tainted air. With a final jerk of his wrist and push of his hand, the youngest Winchester was coming hard as ecstasy crashed over him, thick strips of come painting his bed white.  
Somehow, Sam’s ass managed to grip Dean even tighter as the younger hunter climaxed, his giant hand only adding to the pressure from outside. Dean’s tiny body was unable to even twitch, and he was sure that at any moment now he’d flatten into a pancake.  
But then it was over, and Sam was collapsing against the bed and his ass loosening somewhat around Dean, who breathed a sigh of relief. But instead of moving to deflate the dildo and take it out of his ass, Sam surrendered to the tempting pull of sleep, his ass clenching spasmodically around Dean and the toy in unconsciousness so that his shrunken brother never got more than a minute or two or relief.  
At least by the time that Sam woke up and got around to taking this damned toy out, he’d be so loose and gaping that Dean could just walk out of his ass. Too bad it looks like Dean’s going to be in for a long wait until that can happen though.


	38. Mystery Spot for Size Shifter Bros

But, nothing good could come from it, that’s for sure.  
Sam would be a mess, to be honest. Early on, he’d be on edge all the time, most anything would be able to set him off and make him grow as he was caught in this maddening cycle of denial and death and being unable to save Dean. It’d be easier for Sam to let the anger drive him to grow than allow himself to fall into despair.  
But, as time passed, he’d start waking up shrunken. Sam wouldn’t even be conscious of the shift, because when the world reset, he had always gone tiny at being totally powerless to stop Dean from dying again. And, even though he tries, Sam can’t shift back to normal size. He’s too far gone. The worst part is that now he can’t even try and save Dean; he’s just too small to stop anything.  
It’d usually take Dean a while to find his tiny brother in the motel bed, but once he did, he was always worried and concerned and caring in his typical no-chick-flics type of way.  
I imagine that for a couple of mornings, Sam would hide. He can’t face watching Dean die anymore, and his depression has dragged his size down so that he’s verging on miniscule, so it really isn’t that hard of a thing to do.  
It’d be one of those mornings that Dean finds him and picks up his tiny ass and carries Sammy to the diner with him, that Sam notices the man have strawberry syrup instead of maple, and for the first time in a hundred Tuesdays, Sam would grow instead of shrink.


	39. More thoughts on Borrower Bros

**[nightmares06](https://nightmares06.tumblr.com/)** asked:

For those borrower bros, now that Dean's big (I've imagined this b4), what about the fact that now that Dean's big, he doesn't necessarily have a human grasp of right/wrong? Like he's used to finding supplies on his own, he's never had to /buy/ stuff

Oh my goodness, yes! That’s an amazing thought, and it totally makes sense, too. (We can thank PeaceJoJo for adding a ton of ideas to this)  
I’m sure that, much like Castiel when he first became human, Dean would observe other people to fit in; taking notes from those around him and any shows he caught snippets of on TV. But, it’s not like he can just go out and instantly get a job to pay for stuff, so he’s going to have to resort to his Borrower morals for the time being.  
So picture Dean ‘borrowing’ some food from a local, rundown grocery store, but taking the time to fix a bunch of the things inside that are in disrepair as his way of paying. Like, straightening the store’s crooked sign out front, or fixing that gosh darn leaky pipe in isle 3 that always drips down on the frozen foods. Just random little acts of kindness that follow the Borrower code of giving something back in return for taking something that you need.  
Despite how skilled Dean would be in the ways of stealthy sneakiness, I’m sure that sooner or later, he’d trip an alarm system and the cops would show up to give chase. Now, Borrowers get by on a daily basis through extreme parkour, so you’ve got to mentally picture this chase scene with me. He’d be out of that store in an instant, used to sprinting long distances, and lead those poor cops on a wild chase. The law enforcement would think they finally had him cornered in a dead end alleyway, but he’d scale up the walls of the building and slip away Borrower style.  
Oh, those poor cops, getting all puzzled as to just where this 6 foot tall man disappeared to. “How did he move so fast?” “Where did he go?” “I think I saw him climb up that wall.” “No way, that’s like 30 feet tall and there’s no handholds. He’s no Spider-Man.” Imagine the newer, young cop replying, “But … what if he is?”  
Dean’d raid the local utility shop and make his own grappling hook, basically becoming Batman, minus the money. Little Sammy can even be his Robin. And, even if he did get arrested by the cops, his tiny bro would totally figure out how to pick the lock on those cuffs and get them outa there.  
Imagine him making a home in the upper attic of an old abandoned warehouse or something, the space feeling familiar to him with how it resembled the inner walls of a house.  
Such a fun idea, but I’m sure that as soon as he laid eyes on a certain blue eyed man who worked in the flower shop, that Dean’d put a lot of effort into being more human-like so he could score a date.


	40. Sabriel B-Day Present

First, there was nothingness. Just Gabriel and the void. Eternally silent, infinitely vast, and immeasurably lonely.   
Then, there was light, and it fucking  _sucked_ , because it  _burned_ like a sonuvabitch, like how it had felt to get smote by his great big bag of dicks brother Satan, except in reverse; instead of the gashing and shredding and eviscerating that came with getting shanked by that damned archangel blade, it was piecing him back together, bit by formless bit.   
Oh, and did Gabe mention that this hurt?   
For a moment, the Trickster was sure that he had felt the long-absent touch of his Father, but it was gone as suddenly as it appeared, the heavy weight of existing taking its place.   
Despite the archangel’s best efforts to blatantly ignore the universe’s return, the persistently perky ray of light shining onto his eyes and the relentless throb of his addled Grace had other ideas. This had to be one of the top ten worst ways that Gabriel had ever woken up, right next to that time he rolled over in bed to find himself face to face with that hag in the Bahamas.   
A rough groan rumbled in the archangel’s chest as his amber eyes blearily blinked open, the scraped up floor he was laying on coming into focus. His vessel was stiff, on account of the rough resurrection he was still feeling, and his movements were slow and sluggish as he, with more than a few grumbles, staggered to his feet. Dragging a hand across his face, the Trickster squinted, trying to figure out what in his Father’s name he was looking and where the Hell he was.   
Taking a few shaky steps forward, Gabriel placed a hand against the auburn tinted glass, feeling the condensation that had gathered on its surface chill his palm. The whole thing was cylindrical, just over twice his height, and, looking in through the thick surface, contained some sort of liquid. What the Hell? It almost looked like-   
Suddenly, the Trickster finds himself firmly pinned against the translucent surface by some powerful force from behind. Gabriel immediately starting squirming against its strength, shouting obscenities as he wondered what exactly had the power to make an archangel so wholly helpless like this. Then the grip tightened and lifted both Gabe and the glass pillar up into the air.   
Gabriel was man enough to admit it- he squealed like a little girl. He wasn’t used to being manhandled, let alone made so completely powerless, unable to do anything other than hold on for the ride.   
After a few terrifying seconds of being carried through the air (It was one thing to fly and another to be lifted against his will), Gabe found himself being tilted so that he lay horizontally atop the glass surface. He inhaled sharply when a set of liptastic lips latched onto the tapered end of what Gabriel’s mind now begrudgingly recognized as a gigantic beer bottle, their huge size not doing the least to make them look any less alluring.   
As the alcohol contained inside of the glass surged forward and past those charmingly curved cushions with the rushed roar of a river, the archangel lifted his gaze up to take in the ginormous face as a whole, his eyes latching onto the solemn hazel orbs that were obviously spacing out. Gabriel instantly recognized those unfocused puppy-dog eyes, body going limp in shock as he realized he knew the giant that unknowingly held him prisoner.   
“Samsquatch?!” Gabe’s voice erupted, all incredulous and confused and tinged with what-the-actual-fuck-is-going-on-here with a slight sprinkling of hysteria.   
Sam’s eyes immediately lost their unseeing glaze, falling down and landing on Gabriel’s miniature vessel, widening in surprised disbelief. Instinctually, the hunter’s grip tightened around Gabe, drawing a discomforted squirm from the Trickster, before the hand snapped wide open, dropping both the archangel and beer bottle in his shock.   
Gabe experienced a moment of all-encompassing terror as he plummeted through the air, finding himself unable to summon his wings and use them to fly. He was falling, and he was unable to do anything to save himself, and in that brief moment, the archangel was sure that he was going to die-  _again_ .   
But then the Winchester’s over-sized hands were fumbling against his small body, trying to catch Gabriel. Sam’s finger and thumb finally managed to latch onto Gabe’s leg, halting his decent suddenly so that the Trickster’s body jerked painfully downwards on the limb’s socket, the pain accompanied by a painful  _pop_ . The Trickster heard the distant but sharp sound of glass shattering, signaling that the Winchester had neglected catching the bottle in favor of him. Yay. Then the archangel was getting tugged upwards till he was swaying in front of Sam’s gawking face, held so that the whole world was upside down to the miniature person.   
Blood rushing to his head, the swinging motion only doubling a rising wooziness, Gabe was more than a little grateful when the hunter brought his other hand up beneath the tiny Trickster before releasing his leg. Sam could barely wait for the archangel to take a moment to collect himself and settle into a kneeling position in the palm of his hand before bombarding Gabriel with questions.   
“Gabriel?” The human asked, booming voice caught between awe and concern. “Wh-what happened t- _MMPH_ !”   
Sam was decidedly cut-off when Gabe face-planted into those tantalizing lips, the archangel releasing the pent-up emotions that’d been bubbling just beneath the surface until now by screaming angrily into the beautifully bowed lips, his incoherent frustration muffled by the hunter’s mouth.   
The Winchester blushed furiously at the kiss-like contact, making a questioning noise before flinching back from the touch, mouth working soundless as the English language was lost to Sam.   
Exasperation not quelled in the slightest, Gabriel sprawled out on his back, fisting his hands through his hair, tugging harshly at it. “Well, Sam-bo,” Gabe growled through gritted teeth, “it looks like Daddy fucking dearest decided to bring me back to life, ‘cept bite-sized. Deadbeat dads for the win, and all that jazz- you know how it is.” His words may be light-hearted enough, but his snarl spoke louder of how Gabriel truly felt.   
Still somewhat flustered from the totally not-kiss from earlier, Sam didn’t exactly possess much tact right now, which was pretty obvious when he spoke. “Why don’t you just go find a different vessel? It’s not that big of a deal, right?”   
“Oh, this is a very big deal, Sambo- don’t you think that I would be ditching this shrunken sack of bones for another if I could? No, apparently I’m on lock-down till Dad decides otherwise. And even if I could change vessels, I wouldn’t; I’m not exactly eager to sign my own death sentence,  _again_ . Getting a new meat-suit would be like lighting up a warehouse full of fireworks. Lucifer would know exactly where I am the moment I switched out of this handsome devil.” Gabriel turned away from Sam and glared at nothing in particular. “Why even bring me back if you’re gonna leave me handicapped?! What’s the point of this? I can’t do shit as Tom Thumb, so why even bother with the resurrection?!” The archangel raged at his absent father, despairing his lack of answers and understanding.   
Sam swallowed nervously the sound and motion of it far more noticeable to Gabriel than he realized. “I … I’m glad that He brought you back, Gabriel,” the hunter’s voice cracked slightly.   
Gabriel spun on his heel, facing the looming man once again. “Why? Not that I’m surprised my dashing good looks have gotten to you, but I’m pretty sure that you’re supposed to hate me, Kiddo.”   
“I don’t hate you.” Sam’s tone left no room for argument. “You’re annoying, and full of yourself, and never know when to shut up, but I don’t hate you. I don’t think I  _can_ hate you. Believe me, I’ve tried, but I just can’t.” Gabe didn’t know what to say to that, so it’s probably a good thing that the Winchester kept on talking. “The thought that you died for us- for me, has been tearing me apart ever since we left Elysian Fields, and, tiny or not, you being alive and coming back is something that I’ll never stop being grateful for.” A large finger brushed gently against the archangel’s side, ridiculously careful for something so huge.   
The Trickster’s anger steadily melted away with every word, a warm feeling taking its place in Gabriel’s chest. Gabe hear it all; everything that Sam was and wasn’t saying, the words that shone in those glistening eyes and were whispered in the soft touch of his hold.   
“Awwww, Sammmmmy,” Gabriel cooed, “I always knew you were a big ol’ sap, but why didn’t you let me know that you were sweet on me?” The archangel pranced across the palm toward the towering human’s face, even as Sam spluttered out protests. “Now, now, Moose, there’s no need to get all shy about it. I’m just saying, we could’a gotten up to a lot of fun way sooner than now. Oh well, we’ll just have to make up for lost time.” He stated with a complimentary eyebrow waggle.   
Thankfully, Sam had his hand close enough to his face that the shrunken archangel only had to lean across the small gap between them to stretch his small arms over what little of Sam’s face he could and plant a kiss on the tip of the giant’s nose.   
This time, when the Winchester pulled back, Gabriel was ready. Holding on tight and lifting his legs up, the miniature man spider-gripped Sam’s face, not letting the ginormous hunter get away his time.   
“Gonna have to try harder than that to get rid of me this time, Samshine!” However, his tiny arms didn’t stand a chance against the careful strength of Sam’s fingers plucking Gabe off his nose. “Cheater.”   
Sam snickered lightly, his wide smiling shining with joy, but there was a hint of doubt in those expressive globes. “But, what about Kali? I mean, don’t you and her, I mean, aren’t the two of you-”   
“Nah,” Gabriel interrupted nonchalantly, wrapping himself around a finger in a full-body hug. He’d always been rather tactile with his affections. “We had a Summer fling a coupl’a eons ago, Samsquatch, that’s all. I wasn’t about to leave her to die back there, but I stood up to Lucifer for you, Sam, not her.’ The archangel’s voice had gone deadly serious for a beat, but sprung back to its normal jovial mood a moment later. “Now, what do you say that we put those amazing lips to use already? Those things have been taunting me ever since I got resurrected.”   
The unrestrained laughter Gabriel got from that pun made his efforts more than worth it.   
“Whatever you say, Gabe,” Sam said, softly pressing his cushioned lips to the shrunken being.   
Encouraged by Gabriel’s happy chuckle, Sam lifted his new archangel boyfriend up closer so that he could place small kisses all over the tiny body, finding all of the ever-hovering tension and worry and pain floating away as the hunter lost himself in the sweet affections.   
Gabe sighed in content, warm love washing over him in entirety as Sam’s giant lips peppered him with soft smooches. He was gonna have fun getting used to this kind of attention.


	41. Bored

“C’moooooon, Sammy,” Dean groaned, flopping his shrunken body over Sam’s furiously typing hand, the busy fingers stilling their motions as the younger brother turned an unamused eye down towards the tiny hunter. “I’m bored! You’ve been researching for _forever_ , and I’ve just been lying around here for _days_ and you won’t even get me a slice of giant pie!”  
Rolling his eyes, Sam plucked his miniature brother off his hand, holding the little guy up by the scruff of his shirt at eye level. “Well, Dean, then maybe you should find a way to entertain yourself.” Smugly ignoring Dean’s miniscule obscenities and suggestions as to just what Sam do with his suggestions, and placed the feisty lil’ dude down on the floor. That should buy him at least half an hour of research time before Dean could manage to get himself into any trouble.  
Dean let out a small “ _Oof_!” when Sam let him drop the last inch or so to the floor. Glaring upwards at his brother, the shrunken hunter scowled when he saw that Sam had already turned back to his laptop, completely shutting out his tiny brother. Huffing a frustrated breath, Dean strode forward until he was close enough to land a solid kick against Sam’s giant boot, the whole thing about the size of a pickup truck. It didn’t really make him feel any better.  
Crossing his arms, the Winchester glanced around the expansive motel floor. There was nothing but miles and miles of raggedy old carpet with more than its fair share of strange, unidentifiable stains that are just that much more nasty looking to this shrunken state. Far off in the distance, past the legs of the chair and table and Sam, are the looming blurred forms of the beds and wardrobes, so faraway that Dean can’t even make out the monoliths clearly, despite knowing exactly what they are. Yeah, no way he’s gonna try and walk that entire way. That’d take him, like, _years_.  
Guess that just leaves one option as to having any fun at all.  
Popping his neck and cracking his knuckles, Dean shook out his limbs; loosening up for the task ahead. Eyeing up Sam’s shoe, the tiny hunter judged just how fast he was gonna need to get to pull this off.  
Backing up, mentally calculating, the shrunken man drew in a breath and sprinted forward, using his momentum to help propel himself up the sheer side of his brother’s shoe. Dean reached up and grasped a wayward shoelace just as he started to lose traction and slip back down again. Clenched his jaw, he pulled his miniature body up the rope-like lace till he got to the top of the toe of Sam’s shoe. Laughing victoriously, Dean flopped over onto his back, enjoying this minor success.  
“How’s this for entertainment, Sammy?” Dean smirked, before rolling back up to his feet.  
Scaling the crisscrossed laces of Sam’s boot was easy and had Dean reminiscing about clunky rope bridges at a park with a toddler Sammy on a warm summer afternoon.  
Dean’s handholds changed bulky shoelaces to rough, worm jean as he reached the bottom of Sam’s pant leg. For a moment, the shrunken hunter could’ve sworn that he felt the massive limb tense up beneath the thick fabric, but when it immediately relaxed again, Dean shrugged the thought away. Dean loved the big lug, but, sheesh, Sammy, they’re really gonna need to work on sharpening up those hunter senses.  
As the small hunter climbed higher and higher up his ridiculously huge brother’s shin, he couldn’t help but marvel at the entirety of Sammy’s size. His little brother was gigantic, even more so than usual, and something as simple as going from his brother’s feet to his knee was suddenly a full-own mountaineering expedition.  
Oh, he likes the sound of that; Dean Winchester, giant climber extraordinaire!  
“That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, it’s Dean Winchester, and he’s at it again! All who have had the honor to behold the great Dean Winchester, best big brother the world has ever known, are completely in awe of his heroic adventures! The brave, yet handsome explorer is finally tackling the summit of Mount Samsquatch, once again proving just how awesome he is!” All of Dean’s bravado was concentrated into one itty-bitty body, and was currently finding release through keeping up a running monologue of his voyage.  
Soon enough, the miniature Winchester had managed to clamber up not just Sam’s legs, but was well past halfway up his torso as well. However, Dean wasn’t built for climbing, and definitely not this far or for this long. His arms were starting to tremble a little under the stress, and if he wasn’t so close to reaching Sam’s shoulder, he’d probably have given up and taken 5 in the big guy’s lap. There’s no turning back at this point though, or so he told himself.  
That is, until his hand slipped, giving him a nasty rug burn on the palm and leaving him dangling by one iron-clad grip. Scrambling and flailing about till he managed to regain his grip and tedious footing, Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Shaking himself, the shrunken hunter gathered his waning strength, pulling himself together and upwards until he was safe atop of Sam’s broad shoulder, victorious in his feat of scaling his mountain of a brother.  
A near hysterical laugh swiftly morphed into a terrified shout as Dean, who had collapsed in exhaustion and want of some well-deserved rest, started to slip and slide off the steep drop of Sam’s shoulder. This time he wasn’t able to catch himself, his shrunken body having fallen just out of reach of his giant brother’s clothing.  
But, before he could experience the unpleasant experience of going splat on some very distant, very solid surface, Dean’s decent was suddenly halted. The dazed tiny hunter looked around, slowly absorbing the image of the giant hand he had been deftly caught in and his younger brother’s humongous hovering face staring down at him in concern.  
Damn. That was too close.  
… _Wait a moment_. There’s no way Sam would’ve been able to catch him so quickly like that if he hadn’t already been tuned in on what Dean was doing.  
Dean’s eyes narrowed into suspicious slits glaring pointedly up at Sam. “Did you just sit back and pretend not to notice me working my ass off climbing your giant hide?” The younger brother’s face broke out in a grin, knowing that he’d been caught. “Goddamnit, Sam! You lazy excuse for a gigantor, it took me fifteen minutes to climb up there, you could’a helped me up in five seconds!”  
“Sorry, Dean, I was kinda busy enjoying your description of your ‘daring deeds’ and ‘dashing looks’ to help you up. You made it pretty difficult to keep from laughing, but I didn’t want to throw you off while you were climbing ‘Mount Samsquatch.’ Anyways, there’s no way that I’d completely block you out in case you needed me. Good thing too, seeing as how I’d have a miniature pancake for a brother right now if I had.”  
Dean couldn’t stay mad at Sammy, especially not when the over-grown kid is staring at him with those ginormous puppy-dog eyes and had admittedly just saved his bacon. Hey, speaking of …  
“Don’t worry, Sammy, I forgive you. _But_ , you owe your big brother big time now, so that means you gotta go and get me some bacon- _giant_ bacon!” He was already practically drooling at the thought.  
Sam chuckled softly, nodding in consent and resettling his miniaturized big brother back on his shoulder, his hand lingering till he was sure Dean was safe and settled. “Okay, Dean, fair enough. Just lemme finish up this webpage and then we’ll head out, okay?”  
The small man mumbled something in agreement, leaning up against his brother’s neck and shutting his eyes. That climb had really worn Dean out, and the warmth of Sam’s skin and the rhythmic beat of his pulse had the tiny hunter drifting off to sleep before he could put up a fight, dreams of giant bacon and pie floating through his mind.


	42. Stayin' Alive

**Anonymous** asked:

I am a terrible person for thinking of this, but imagine Sam getting shrunk to like an inch tall sometime during Season 5, and he tries to get deans attention, but Dean (maybe being pissed cause he thinks Sam ran off again and not paying attention) ends up unknowingly killing Sam (stepping on him, kicking him, etc). Of course Lucifer made the promise to bring Sam back to life. Cue Sam waking up and trying once again to get his brothers attention only to get killed again and again by Deans hand.

Oohhhhh damn D: that is a pretty terrible thought, but I’m sure you’re a lovely person.

This is all types of horrible and angsty, and reminds me a bit of our Mystery Spot idea, except this one feels so much worse. Maybe it’s because instead of Sam trying and failing to save his tiny brother from repeatedly dying, it’s Dean who’s doing the killing of a poor shrunken Sammy. Just feels so much more heartbreaking.

There’s no way I could write something for this without wrecking myself, so instead I’ll just share some first thought up scenarios :P

Picture Dean absentmindedly scratching at that annoying, persistent itch on his arm, unknowingly crushing Sammy beneath his fingers. Think of our unfortunate miniature hunter getting _just_ too close to Dean while the big brother is doing research, only to get squished beneath the dusty tome that Dean tossed aside in frustration. Imagine Sammy finally managing to get up to Dean’s shoulder, thinking that he’s finally going to manage to get his big brother to hear him and help him, only for Dean to swat at that annoying noise next to his ear, sending the dazed tiny guy plummeting down to the distant floor below.

By the time that Dean does actually find Sammy, the little guy is gonna be pretty traumatized. He’ll be flinching away from every touch and every movement from his big brother. Dean won’t understand why- it’s not like Sam’s even got a scratch on him to justify why he’d be scared of Dean- but, really, he’s just not in the mood to ask and initiate a chick-flick right now; he’s already got enough on his plate with the impending apocalypse. And Sam’s not gonna tell Dean by his own free will. No, he’ll bottle it up and never mention it; the last thing that he wants to do is possibly add to any of the guilt that Dean’s already carrying because of him. Not to mention that there’s no need to give the older brother another reason to think of Sam as a freak.


	43. Mad Scientist AU 1

Think of mad scientist Castiel, who’s actually just the shy, nerdy, insanely-intelligent-but-gets-bullied-because-of-it guy at school who a certain spiky haired, emerald eyed Dean Winchester challenged to prove just how smart Cas is by making a shrink ray. Now, Dean doesn’t actually believe that Castiel can do it, and doesn’t even really understand why he dared him to in the first place- it’s just, well, Dean’s the school jock, and Cas is pretty much the epitome of being socially un-cool. But that didn’t stop the Winchester from having a crazy huge crush on the little nerd. When he’d finally managed to corner Castiel after school, Dean had intended to ask him to go see a movie with him, but he’d panicked last second and that stupid dare had tumbled out of his mouth instead. And then the rest of the football team had inconveniently come around the corner and immediately backed up Dean’s supposed goad, which lead to Castiel accepting the challenge! Now Cas has been avoiding Dean like the plague (even more so than before), and always locking himself away by himself in the school’s science lab whenever he gets the chance.  _Sigh_ . So despite the jock’s best efforts to make things friendly between them again, what little interactions they do have are ice cold on Cas’ end. Then one afternoon when Dean has just finished toweling down in the gym’s showers, he hears some noise coming from the hall. Throwing on some pants and heading out, Dean’s in for an unpleasant surprise when he sees those jerk-faced jocks he has the displeasure of calling his friends shoving Cas against some lockers. For a moment he considers turning away and saving face for his popularity status, but the look on Castiel’s face has him balling his hands in fists and marching forward before Dean realizes he’s made a decision. Just when the head jock is about to smash Cas’ face in with his fist, Dean surges forward and tackles the man. Or, that was the plan anyways. He’d more ended up shoving the douchebag out of the way instead of tackling him to the floor, which put Dean in the direct line of fire for some crazy bright blue light that fired from this weird looking gun-thingy that Cas was holding. The world went white and it felt like Dean was getting flayed alive. He could hear distant shouting and thunderous crashes above him before everything went quiet. Blinking harshly, his vision slowly cleared, and he found himself staring up at an impossibly tall ceiling. The bright lights hanging from it were like distant suns, making Dean vaguely wonder what the Hell he’d been roofied with.  
There are sooo many options of where you could go from there.  
The jocks could get scared off by the bright light and suddenly vanished Dean, which leaves Cas to calm down and collect his tiny savior, then figure out a way to get him back to normal size all while bashfully thanking Dean for finally standing up for him. Maybe Dean’ll even convince Cas to go see that movie with him.  
Or Castiel could get pummeled by the extremely pissed of jocks for even trying to shrink then. They’d wrestle his shrink ray away from him and then shrink Cas as well, leading to the tiny teens scampering away as quickly as they can from the jocks and ducking into the school’s ventilation system, wandering through the air vents and trying to make their way to the science lab. This journey would be full of snark on both sides- Dean blaming Cas for getting them shrunk and trapped in these nasty tunnels and Cas accusing Dean of starting the whole thing with his stupid dare in the first place.  
What about Cas snatching up Dean, shoving him in his hoodie’s pocket, and running for their lives from the furious bullies. Castiel manages to make it to his bike and then it’s only a mile or so ride to his house. Once they finally get there, the young scientist has got an intensely motion sick Dean in his hands- literally. After that they’re gonna have to regroup and figure out a plan on how to sneak back into the school’s lab so Cas can tamper with his shrink ray and hopefully figure out how to reverse its effects on Dean, but that’ll have to wait until tomorrow- Cas has a chemistry test to study for, so Dean’ll just have to mind his own business and stay out of trouble for now. (A goal that’s easier said than done, especially seeing as Cas has a ridiculous number of pets. They help compensate for the lack of friends- you don’t really hang out with the kid targeted by the entire football team.)  
Alternatively, think of what could’ve happened if the jocks had wrestled the shrink gun from Cas and shot the nerd with it before Dean had even come out of the locker room. They would have wondered off, taking the gadget with them, confused as to where the little geek had wandered off to, but Dean would have left the locker room only to notice a tiny scurrying creature out of the corner of his eye. He’s in for quite a shock when he discovers an itty-bitty Castiel cowering away from his shadow, begging for mercy. Dean’s quick to snap out of it though, when the little guy tries to run away. This school is already dangerous enough for Cas on a regular basis, let alone when he’s a couple of inches tall. While trying his best not to come across as some Polyphemus-wanna-be, Dean scoops up Castiel in his hands and comforts the little guy as much as he can. It’s really not that successful, seeing as Cas is in near hysterics at someone who he’d more often than not considered just another bully could now crush him without breaking a sweat. But Dean’s not about to give up anytime soon, so after a countless amount of time administering the comforting methods he’d always used on his nigh inconsolable little brother, he’d finally get Cas to calm down. One dumpster-dive later, Dean’s recovered the tossed shrink ray, and they’re just that much closer to getting Cas back to normal size. But if Dean gets to revel in the newfound closeness to the adorable shrunken nerd, he’s not gonna complain.


	44. Mad Scientist AU 2

Imagine Sam working on this really important final project for some class in college, and Dean’s decided to come around and visit at just the wrong time. The younger brother is out of his apartment building right now on one of his caffeine runs, and Dean’s just really bored and that weird do-hickey that Sam’s being toying with this entire time just looks so cliché science fiction flic that Dean can’t help but want to mess around with it. Now, sure, Sammy’s warned Dean time and time again to never touch his stuff, but when has that ever stopped the big brother? Exactly.   
But when this freaky machine starts to buzz and hum and glow angrily, Dean’s seriously regretting his decision. A wave of red energy pulses out of the project, hitting Dean and tingling across his skin as it passes over him. He’s about to breathe a sigh of relief when this weird stretching feeling overtakes his body, kinda like when you’ve got a sunburn and it pulls taut as you move, but far more intense. Then everything around him is shrinking and getting smaller and Dean’s starting to panic cause, sure, he’s never been claustrophobic but he’s also never literally had the walls close in around him.   
Making a split-second decision, Dean’s squeezing through the thankfully open window which is almost too tight of a squeeze, but he manages it all the same, and then he’s out in the alley way behind Sam’s apartment and everything is still shrinking! Now Dean really is panicking, his breath coming in quick, shallow puffs as he fearfully wonders if he’ll ever stop growing or if he’ll just keep getting bigger and bigger until he’s so tall that he’ll suffocate out in space simply by standing up! But then his growth is already slowing down, and he can once again breathe freely. He levels out at about 40 feet tall, and he’s so incredibly grateful that it’s some unholy hour of the morning so no one is awake to see the giant Winchester standing outside their window and call some crazy top secret government agency that would come and take Dean away, covering it all up as some conspiracy and making Sam out to be some nutjob who lost his marbles.   
Speaking of Sammy, Dean’s pretty sure that’s his beat up rust bucket pulling up to the curb. Perfect! If anyone can help Dean, it’s his smarty-pants little brother. Shuffling out of the alley sideways, the oversized man plucks up one oblivious Sam from the street just before he can enter the building.   
Sam’s terrified screams are quickly smother by Dean’s other hand as the giant peers around to see if anyone was woken by the noise. Once he was sure that everything was still safe, he uncovered his quaking little brother, who gasped for air. Oops. Oh well, they’ve got bigger problems to deal with right now.   
As Sammy catches his breath, Dean’s amazed at how it feels to hold another human being in his hand like this. This is so freaky!   
Dean manages to stall Sam’s next wave of terror long enough for the little brother to figure out that it’s Dean holding him instead of some horrifying monster. Awkwardly shrugging his shoulders sheepishly, Dean starts spouting some story about Sam’s mystery machine freaking out on him, but Sammy calls him on his lie. Now more exasperated than afraid, Sam has Dean drop him off at his apartment’s window and gets to work on figuring out how to fix this mess, throwing bitch faces his big brother’s way every couple of minutes.   
But when dawn comes and Dean’s stomach rumbles and Sam still hasn’t been able to fix his idiotic big brother, they dismally realize that this isn’t going to be a quick fix type of problem.


	45. Mad Scientist AU 3

So Sam’s been working at this research facility for a while now, okay? And he’s not gonna lie; he’s seen a  _lot_ of weird stuff go down here. Now, Sam’s never been one to snoop, but he can’t help but get a little curious when he sees this guy walk into one of the restricted areas. As in, so restricted that even  _Sam_ isn’t allowed to go in there, and Sam’s one of the top scientists employed here.   
It’s only logical that he follows the man back there, fully intending to stop the stranger and lead him out. Now that he’s thinking about it, Sam is pretty sure that he’d seen this guy somewhere before. Maybe he’s the janitor or something? It’d partially explain the casual clothing and lack of a lab coat, but  _still_ .   
Now, there are two different ways that this story could go from here.   
The first option is Sam follows the guy around a corner and ends up in this huge lab area. The stranger is already tampering with some strange machine that Sam’s never seen before. Even though he seems to know what he’s doing, Sam is still pretty sure that he’s not supposed to be back here right now, so he starts crossing the room towards him. But then the machine is suddenly flickering to life, the narrowed end of it sparking with some weird type of energy. Thing is, is that it’s pointed directly at the trespasser, whose back is turned to it and is completely oblivious as he hums some cheesy 80’s tune while looking over some notes. Not really thinking things through, Sam called out a warning to the stranger, who turned towards him and then the machine with a deer-in-the-headlights face, completely frozen in place and not really leaving Sam much of a choice besides leaping in front of him and blocking the machine’s shot. Feeling like he’d just gotten ran over by a train, the scientist groaned from his place on the floor. Sam’s attention was drawn to an awed curse from on high. Blearily looking up, Sam wasn’t sure what strange alternate reality he’d been dropped into, but whatever it was, he decided that he wasn’t a fan. There was the stranger he’d followed into the restricted lab, but he now easily loomed high overhead Sam, even in his crouched position. When the man introduced himself to be Gabriel Novak, none other than the founder of this entire lab, Sam’s day only got that much worse. Of course he had recognized Gabriel- the guy’s portrait was hung in the front office! But when Gabriel went on to thank Sam for saving his bacon from the shrink ray-  _shrink ray!_ Sam thinks to himself hysterically.  _Who in their right mind invests in and builds a real life shrink ray?!_ -and that he’d get Sam fixed up in a jiffy. So if Sam spent the next couple of hours getting flirted with and manhandled by the strangely suave and soothing scientist, you wouldn’t hear him complaining about it, even if Gabriel kept calling him the weirdest nicknames like ‘mini-moose’ and seemed to have stockpiled a ridiculous amount of size puns for a moment like this. And if Sam got asked out on a date after this whole shrinking business was sorted out, well, you can’t blame him for saying yes.   
The other story path is Sam goes after mister mysterious, but what he sees next leaves him completely floored. He’s pretty sure that he just accidently stumbled into an alternate dimension, because there, restrained against the wall and taking up most of this dingy containment area, is Sam’s brother Dean. Except it can’t be Dean, because Dean is away on vacation right now, has been for weeks, and there’s no way in Hell that it’s somehow slipped past Sam until now that his big brother was at least 60 feet tall. But the evidence was right there and was screaming otherwise. Sam’s stomach churned nauseatingly as he took in the countless bruises and scratches and effing  _chemical burns_ on his giant brother’s body, along Dean’s demeanor; usually the oldest Winchester was so confident and cocky, always standing tall with a ridiculously bright smile, but now Dean was curled up against the wall, obviously trying to make his giant body appear as small as possible with little success, every inch of his tense, exhausted frame blaring how withdrawn and afraid he was. The fact that Dean hadn’t noticed Sam yet was only another clue as to how screwed up everything was right now; Dean and Sam had always been strangely hyper-aware of each other since they were kids, and now it was like that connection had been forcibly severed by whatever horrors had gone on here. That’s when the guilt hit Sam, because he realized that he had been completely oblivious to his brother’s fate, hadn’t even thought twice when Dean never called to check in or brag about how much fun he was having out of town, hadn’t noticed that Dean was only down the effing hall and being tortured and experimented on while Sam had just gone about his day and then peacefully left for work every evening. If only Sam had known, then he could had saved him so much sooner. Then that monstrous mountain of guilt morphed into rage, and Sam was seeing red, his chest heaving with ragged breaths and his pulse was pounding rapidly in his ears. Barreling forward, Sam vaguely registered the man who he had followed had finally noticed him and was trying to stop Sam, but the youngest Winchester paid him no mind. Nothing was going to stop Sam from helping his brother. Placing a single hand on the shorter man’s forehead, Sam shoved him backwards so that he stumbled and fell down onto his ass. Sam didn’t stop until he was right next to his brother, close enough that he could truly get a good look at his wounds and the restraints mercilessly binding Dean to the wall. It only sent another hot flash of guilt and anger through Sam when he recognized that work; it was one of his own experiments in the lab, a special type of technology that Sam had designed to painlessly bind large, wild animals. It was obvious that his machine had been tampered with by the harsh welts wherever the device was touching Dean’s skin, but that didn’t stop Sam from feeling like he had contributed to his brother’s torture. Pushing back his own feelings, Sam focused on freeing his brother first, and then apologizing later. Sam frowned when he realized that there was no way he could get anywhere near those bindings with how hunched over Dean was. Sam would have to get his brother’s attention before he could help any more. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, the scientist gently placed a hand on the giant’s battered thigh, softly calling Dean’s name and determinedly ignoring that stranger’s shouted warning. In hindsight, maybe that wasn’t the wisest course of action. The reaction was instantaneous; the moment his fingers came in contact with Dean’s skin, the giant moved faster than Sam could comprehend. Fingers almost as large as Sam wrapped around his body, threatening to squeeze the life out of him alongside his breath. Black spots danced before his eyes as Sam struggled to call out to his brother. Angry, cold green eyes glared down at Sam, completely devoid of all recognition and the submissive nature that Dean had seemed to portray earlier. Sam couldn’t get the hand to budge an inch, and his head rolled to the side, resting against Dean’s large thumb, as Sam’s lungs were unable to expand and draw in a breath under the constricting force of Dean’s fist. Dean was growling something, hateful and frightening, but Sam only responded by choking out a pitiful sound when the grip only tightened further. Then the colossus’ eyes cleared, flooding with recognition a moment before the fingers unfurled, letting Sam lay flat in Dean’s open palm rather than being pinned in his brother’s fist. While Sam gasped for breath, choked expressions of shock, confusion, concern with a hint of guilt, and mostly pure joy and relief filtered through on Dean’s face as the giant tearfully took in the presence of his brother, tucking the scientist up against his stubble cheek in the shadow of a hug. Weakly spreading his arms as wide across his brother’s face as they could reach, Sam returned the gesture, basking in the return of a man he hadn’t even realized was missing. When Dean pulled back, Sam waved off his questions, making their escape his top priority. Turning to get a closer look at the bindings on Dean’s wrists, the younger Winchester scowled when he realized that there was no way he was going to be able to free his brother without the passcode. That’s when the stranger from before, who introduced himself as Gabriel with a slanted grin, stepped closer and offered to help the brothers. Gabe revealed that he’d actually snuck in here to free Dean, and had been about to do so, when a certain moose had interrupted him. Sam was more than a little suspicious, but he didn’t really see any other options besides giving this Gabriel guy a chance. So the guy, who was already way smaller than Sam and looked positively ridiculous next to Dean’s giant form, continued forward till he was close enough that Dean could bend around and hold out the bindings to him. A quick flutter of finger presses had the restrains opening with a musical chime, and then Dean was rolling up to his feet, groaning as he stretched muscles that hadn’t moved like this in weeks. Sam clung to his brother’s finger, heart fluttering at the sudden flying sensation. The giant went through a moment of indecision before shrugging his stretching shoulders and plucking Gabriel up from the floor, ignoring the comparatively tiny guy’s disgruntled, albeit very colorful, insults and threats. When the gigantic Winchester hesitated before continuing out of the doors and on with their escape, Sam gently placed a hand on the tip of Dean’s finger, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Dean’s eyes flicked down towards his little brother, a small smile quirking across his lips and gratefulness flashing across his eyes before he ruffled Sam’s hair with that familiar big brother grin. Having found strength in his Sammy, Dean narrowed his eyes and crouched down to crawl through the wide doors. He squinted at the bright lights, his eyes having grown use to the dim glow that always filled the containment room Dean had been held in. From his shoulder, Sam and Gabe directed Dean through the halls, squabbling about which way would be faster, only for them all to freeze at the sight of a wide eyed security job staring at them from the middle of the hallway, blocking their path. Nobody moved, all stuck watching each other, waiting for someone to make a move. Sam vaguely recognized the security guard as the new guy, Benny. He really hadn’t had a chance to get to know the guy too well yet, but every time they’d spoken, Benny seemed pretty decent. Sliding down off his brother, waving off Dean’s protest, Sam softly pleaded Benny to not turn them in, to help Sam save his brother. Benny was silent for a moment, before he nodded slowly, his Cajun accent thick as he told them that this job wasn’t worth turning a blind eye to torturing another person, even if they’re a bit on the tall side. This job was never supposed to be a very physical one, just watching over some nerds, and he’d really only taken it in a transition stage. So, shocked or not, Benny helps the giant and two normal-ish sized guys escape, making sure that the way is clear and calling in on his radio an emergency supposedly taking place on the other side of the building. Managing to make it out of the facility without any further incidents, they all made a break for the nearby forest, traveling deep into the trees till they felt safe enough to take a brake and regroup. Sam may not have any clue just yet how to fix his brother, but he had no doubt that if those jerks back at his suddenly-resigned-from job could figure it out, the youngest Winchester was sure he could do it with a little help from his new friends.


	46. Give and Take

  
  


You know what? Sam misses the good old days; back before their lives were filled with angels and demons and the numerous world-ending apocalypses and all the other screwed up stuff that he and Dean have been through over the last couple of years, back when all the brothers had to deal with were some grudge-holding poltergeists and the occasional shapeshifter or black dog. Too bad those days are long gone.  
Their current hunt is a perfect example of just how craptacular the Winchester’s lives have become. Not only are they hunting a particularly nasty and destructive demon that’s been terrorizing the locals for the last couple of weeks, oh no, but a demon whose vessel measures over 60 feet tall.  
And, surprise surprise, Sam’s bait.  
Now, the plan was for Sam to lure the colossus away from civilization to an open field and keep it distracted long enough for Dean to make his move. The first part went off without a hitch, until the giant managed to get his hands on Sam- literally. But, really, who’s shocked by that? The day that one of the brother’s plans actually worked was the day that Dean would paint the Impala hot pink.  
The bastard picks Sam up like the hunter’s nothing more than some hand-me-down Ken doll, and is almost painfully obvious in its attempt to intimidate him by scowling down at the hunter with that giant fugly mug of his, but all Sam can think is ‘Eh.’ Honestly, you’re gonna have to try a little harder to frighten the man who went toe to toe with the Devil, won, and then spent _how_ many centuries in the cage getting tortured by not one, but two extremely pissed off archangels for it? Yeah, this sorry excuse for a villain ain’t got nothin’ on Sam Winchester.  
But the enormous effin’ fiend won’t even just snap Sam’s spine and get it over with, because that would be _too easy_ or something equally idiotic along those lines. No, instead it starts chanting some _horribly_ mangled excuse for the Latin language. Obviously, this demonic dunce is barely able to remember the right words, let alone pronounce them. Yet, lo and behold, the spell somehow still manages to work (of course it did; it was being cast on Sam Winchester, the boy who the universe never got tired of screwing over).  
Sam being Sam, was able to recognize the magic as a binding curse between him and the demon. Why the Hell this fool thought it would be a good idea to cast a spell that made it so that what happened to one of them happened to the other, was beyond Sam. Probably best not to think about it too much; there’s only so much pure stupidity that a person can strive to comprehend.   
That’s when Dean, fashionably late as always, bursts into the clearing shouting some nonsense of his own; completely oblivious as to what had just occurred. To be fair, the demon’s back was turned to the older brother, so Dean wasn’t able to see Sam’s current predicament, but the man should have at least _checked_ to see where Sam was. But, no, Dean was too gung-ho and caught up in the moment of taking down the baddie and being a hero to think about trivial details like the whereabouts of his little brother.  
Thing is, is that the brothers had decided that the best way to deal with the oversized wisp of smoke was to shrink it down to normal size. Great plan, right? Well, it would’a been if Sam hadn’t have gotten caught in the crossfire.  
So Dean follows through with his end of the plan, and casts the curse on the demon. Now, Sam’s not exactly sure if it’s that he’s being held by the demon or if it’s the binding spell connecting them, but it doesn’t really matter because either way, Sam shrinks down along with the possessed giant. After feeling like he’s just gotten tossed into a blender set on puree and then trampled by a stampede, Sam took note of their new sizes; while the demon ended up a normal sized person, the youngest Winchester is only a couple of inches tall. Fan- _freaking_ -tastic.  
It’s only the cherry on top when Dean, larger than life and still blissfully oblivious towards Sam’s dilemma, suddenly appears out of nowhere and devastatingly sucker punches Sam’s captor right in the throat; sending the demon crashing the ground and Sam flying from its hand.  
When Sam’s tumbling finally came to a halt in a thicket of grass, he lay there for a good moment, gasping for air with a hand wrapped around his throat, stuttering for breath, as he contemplated how despicable a human being he must’ve been in a past life to deserve all of this crap. He’d felt that punch as if Dean had delivered it to Sam’s own throat, and that was when it really sunk in just how much trouble the tiny Winchester was in right now.  
Staggering unsteadily to his feet, Sam made his way towards the enormous scuffle, weaving his way through blades of grass as tall as he was and wincing as he felt every hit Dean landed on the demon’s body. The earth shook beneath the giant’s battle, making it that much harder for Sam to keep his footing.  
He lost the fight to stay upright when Dean splashes the demon with holy water, shrunken legs collapsing beneath Sam as it felt like acid was burning away at his flesh. Sam’s scream was strangled, still not having recovered from that throat punch. In all honesty, Sam was lucky that that first hit hadn’t killed him right then and there. But you’ll have to excuse Sam if he’s not in the most grateful mood as a mighty wave of vibrations launches the miniature hunter up in the air; the result of Dean tackling the demon to the ground, the two massive bodies landing not more than half a foot away from where Sam lay.

All things considered, Dean’s been having a pretty decent day. Sammy surprised him with donuts for breakfast, Dean’d snagged the number of that pretty waitress from the diner and she’d thrown in slice of pie for free. Even this hunt was going pretty smoothly so far, ‘cept for the fact that the demon had started out a Paul Bunyan reject, but Sam’s awesome plan for shrinking it had gone off without a hitch.  
So why did Dean have this sinking feeling in his gut?  
It wasn’t until the hunter had managed to pin the demon beneath him that Dean actually figured it out. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small- and by small he means tiny enough that Dean could hide the guy in his fist- figure stumble out of the grass and into a more barren patch of earth. For some reason, the sight of the disorientated little guy is making Dean’s gut twist, but now is the worst moment possible for the Winchester to revel in his discovery of Borrowers, so he lands another punch on the demon’s nasty mug.  
Dean vaguely recognized the tiny dude collapse when he lands the solid hit on the bad guy of the week. Perfectly in time with the contact of the Winchester’s strike, the miniature man was flung over onto his back, facing up, chest heaving, bangs falling across an impossibly familiar face. _No. Fucking. Way._  
“Sammy?” Dean whispered in disbelief, a feeling which quickly morphed into despair when the guy- when his brother, shrunken and tiny and so obviously hurt, turned and looked at him with miniscule hazel eyes shining with pain.  
The older Winchester’s world has just gone sideways, and he can’t stop staring. Dean’s mind is going into overdrive as he realizes what must have happened with the spell (and that this is probably more than just a little bit Dean’s fault) and just why he had been feeling that something was wrong- his big brother alarm had been going off, that’s what- and Dean also links Sam’s reactions to Dean’s hits on the demon, managing to make himself feel like even worse of a big brother because while he was beating up the bad guy, he was also beating up his little brother.  
And that’s when the demonic sonuvagun sucker punched Dean.

Sam vaguely thinks that it only serves Dean right for starting the fight with a sucker punch that he gets one in return, but the shrunken Winchester was a little busy flinching back and curling up into a ball as his ginormous older brother came crashing down around Sam to really enjoy the moment.  
Dean’s body appreciatively curved around Sam’s form, instead of landing directly on top of the tiny hunter, thanks to the giant brother’s quick reaction. It was still far too close for comfort though and Sam tried not to let himself be shaken by the thought that _Dean_ almost crushed him. The shrunken hunter is fully expecting the demon to pounce upon Dean and beat the man in return, but instead it stands up and takes a few steps back, distancing itself from the brothers.  
When the glint of moonlight reflecting off of cold metal caught Sam’s eye, his stomach dropped. Somehow, the demon had managed to grapple Dean’s gun from him during the fight and was now a half second away from shooting Sam’s big brother with that stupid sneer painted gloatingly across its stolen face. But Sam Winchester’s wit is quicker to draw than any gun, and the tiny man viciously bites down on his own hand; teeth cutting through flesh and hot, sticky blood bubbling up past his lips.  
It hurts like a sonuvabitch but that’s kinda the point, because the demon yelps in pain and drops the gun like it’s a hot potato, clutching its hand as the fiend feels Sam’s wound through their bond. Suck it, demon scum.  
It’s also the perfect opportunity for Dean to regain the upper hand, which he does. The giant rolls to his feet, saying something that distinctly sounds like “Sorry, Sammy,” right before he decks the demon (and, inadvertently, his brother).

Dean’s balancing the terrible line of beating up the demon to win the fight and pulling his punches to not break his little brother. If Dean doesn’t keep the baddie on the ropes, then they’re both screwed, but if he goes too hard, he could easily kill Sam by accident. It’s not like you can kill a demon with your fists; yeah, it’s gonna do some damage, but they can always walk away even if their vessel doesn’t. A well placed kick to the head will slow one down, but the same blow could easily kill a human.  
This is the hardest fight Dean’s ever fought, and that’s saying something.  
That’s when Cas shows up. The angel takes one glance at the scuffle and he’s stepping forward, two fingers extended, ready to smite the demon by touch.  
The elder Winchester’s eyes widen in realization, and Dean’s lunging forward to shield the demon with a jarring shout. “ _Stop_!” Castiel freezes, his hand a half inch away from Dean’s forehead, face scrunched up in confusion. “Don’t! It’s magicked itself up a life bond with Sam!”  
Cas shrugs. “Then exorcise it. The separation between the dimensions of Hell and Earth should be more than enough to break the curse’s hold on your brother.” He disappeared then instantly reappeared behind the demon, grabbing its arms and holding it in place. No matter how much the sonuvabitch struggled, it was no match for Cas’ angel mojo.  
Dean gave the angel a dumbfounded look, grumbling to himself about a certain trench coat clad baby taking all the fun out hunts as he rolled his eyes in exasperation. Taking a breath, the hunter starts reciting the Latin verses.

The pain crashed into Sam like the iceberg did the Titanic. Sam was drowning in the icy clutches of agony, each Latin verse doubling his anguish. It’s a pain that whispers of the Cage, Lucifer’s fingertips ghosting over the edges of Sam’s soul.  
Coming from somewhere far above and in the distance, the hunter recognizes the sounds of a ginormous struggle. The demon’s shouts were no more than a notch or two away from shattering Sam’s eardrums, so he counted it as a blessing when darkness starts to edge in on his vision.  
But then the connection snaps like a rubber band stretched too far, the moment the demonic King Kong wannabee is sent back to Hell. Sam’s not surprised when none of the pain vanishes, nor the injuries. Not to toot his own horn, but Sam is pretty confident it’d tear a hole in the fabric of time and space itself if something went right for Sam today.  
His point is made for him when it becomes apparent that Dean and Cas, who had started searching for the shrunken Winchester, were only getting farther away, their teeth rattling steps and calls starting to fade off in the distance.  
This time, Sam panics. Dean must’ve lost track of him in all of the fighting. He’s going to get left behind, he’s sure of it. Sam will be alone, inches tall and injured without any hope of fending for himself or getting back to Dean.  
The tiny man freaks out, staggering onto his feet and limping forward, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his strangled shouts, knowing that it was a lost cause. Really, no one is expecting any different when Sam, in his hysteria, trips over his own gangly legs and topples over, smacking his temple against a fist-sized pebble.

When Sam comes to, it doesn’t take long for him to realize that something’s wrong; he should not be feeling this pain-free right now. Opening his eyes, the hunter quirks a brow when he’s met with a wall of plaid. There’s a gentle hum of classic rock in the background, just enough to be there, almost overshadowed by the steady thu-thump that’s beating behind the warm patterned clothes.  
“Hey, Sammy, you back in the land of the living?” Sam’s gaze snaps up, fixing on the huge concerned green eyes that clashed with the light-hearted tone.  
“Dean, your brother was never dead. I healed Sam of his injuries before any of them could become life-threatening.” Cas’ gravely voice amended, coming from the Impala’s passenger seat.  
“Whatever, Sam knows what I meant.” Said Dean.  
“The Demon?” Sam asked, taking a soothing deep breath when he recognized that Dean was holding the younger Winchester in his hand against his chest. His only other experience being held was from the demon, but he focused on the fact that Dean’s only intent was to keep Sam safe and close.  
“We exorcised the demon,” Cas stated, staring down at Sam, “but unfortunately, neither you nor your brother prepared a counter spell to your shrinking curse, so even though your bond to the demon has been broken, we are unable to fix you.”  
“Yet.” Dean tacked on. “We can’t unshrink you, yet. We’ll figure it out in no time.”  
“Yes, we will devote our full efforts to fixing you. Until then, I would not suggest taking on another hunt while at your current size, Sam.” The tiny Winchester almost laughed at the thought of him throwing singular grains at a ghost while on a salt-n-burn, but managed to stop himself before he possibly worried Cas or Dean. “I will check my contacts, see if they know anything. Pray to me if anything new happens,” Cas ordered, disappearing with the accompanying sound of fluttering of wings.  
Now that the brothers were alone, Dean anxiously shifted his weight, gently rocking Sam with the unhappy motion.  
The guilt on the older Winchester’s face was clear as day to Sam; all of those tiny tells and cracks in Dean’s mask so much easier to see at this size. Sam knew that his brother was searching for the right words- find the balance between saying sorry to his brother and not crossing into a chick flic.  
“Dean.” Sam said, waiting for his brother to look down at him again. “You don’t need to apologize. Not your fault. You couldn’t have known, and even once you did, there was nothing else you could’ve done.” Dean looked like he was going to argue, but Sam kept going. “Seriously, Dean, forget it. Cas healed me, I’m fine. Besides, your punches were crap; barely felt them. You need to work on your technique, jerk.” Sam shoved playfully at a nearby finger.  
Dean scowled, but there was no heat behind his mock-glare, only relief. The giant older brother’s shoulders released their tension, and he lightly flicked Sam’s shoulder playfully. “Keep it up, bitch, and the first thing you’re gonna get when you’re a moose again is gonna be a knuckle sandwich.”  
“Sure, Dean, whatever you say,” Sam said airily, much to Dean’s annoyance.  
Okay, so maybe this day didn’t turn out quite so bad. In the end, after getting shrunk and beaten and nearly lost forever, Sam was still with his brother, and that was pretty damn lucky.


	47. More on Size Shifter Bros

**Anonymous** asked:

For the size-shifter bros, how did they get their abilities? Were they born with it? Could Mary and John shift sizes? How did John deal with raising two kids who constantly changed their size? (sorry if this is a lot of questions at once, I just really love the idea of size changing bros :D)

Heyyyyy, guess what! I’m off till next Tuesday! Whoop whoop! The means I get to spend an insane amount of time writing and drawing some stuff for us all! ;D I’ve finished my plays, which went amazingly, and as soon as the recordings are finished editing, I’ll post a show for ya’ll to check out if you want.  
Anyways, huge thanks to my beloved Peacejojo for helping me figure out some sweet backstory stuff for this prompt.  
  


Don’t apologize- I love size shifter bros too!  
I like to think that Mary was a size shifter and John wasn’t. She never told him, because all Mary ever wanted was a normal apple pie, white picket fence life. Thing is, is that when her baby boy Dean started to develop his shifter abilities, Mary had to not only hide her own powers, but her son’s as well.  
So whenever John’s away, Mary teaches Dean how to control his powers through games, like hide and seek or playing with his toys, and simply through wanting to reach something he really wants on a top shelf.  
It wasn’t ever easy though; with Dean’s mom having to hide him away whenever he got sick and couldn’t help but shrink down all smol. Mary would tell John that her mom had come by and picked Dean up to spend the weekend together, while she soothingly brushed her thumb over her tiny, miserable son’s back, the pocket she kept him in helping to muffle the small sneezes and coughs.  
Oh boy, when Dean gets into a tantrum while the family’s gone camping. She’s lucky that John is gone gathering up some firewood, because it’s kinda hard to discretely calm down a fifty-foot-tall toddler throwing a fit.  
It’s too bad that Sammy never got the chance to learn how to control his powers by the time Mary died, so when John was inevitably in for quite the surprise- it’s not every day you find out your youngest son can change height on a whim. He understandably freaked out (a lot), and did as much as he could to make sure Sammy didn’t shift.  
Maybe Dean didn’t want to teach Sam or have him learn about their powers, thinking that his brother could pass off as normal and live in oblivion for as long as possible. But when Sam has an accident and shifts, Dean would purposefully match his size to be able to comfort his little brother.  
But the real fun is when the guys start entering their teenage years- think of Dean claiming that Sam’s only using his powers to be taller than him, completely fighting against the fact that Sam’s just had a normal person growth spurt.  
I like to think that Sam would always make sure to shift _just_ enough so that John and Dean would notice it while in public, but no stranger could tell the difference, and he’d do it just to make a jab at his father.  
When Sam and Dean sparred, they’d always try and use their size shifting to be clever and get the upper hand on each other. Also, their powers would make for some pretty interesting prank wars throughout the years.  
Don’t forget about the hunts though, because there’s no way John wouldn’t use the boy’s size shifter abilities to get the upper hand on monsters in hunts. The Winchester patriarch would make Sam shrink down to about a child’s size for bait, luring out the baddie with short limbs that are unable to outpace the monster or have the strength to fend it off, while Dean comes in as a giant to save the day at the last moment.  
True to Winchester luck, it’s on one of those hunts where Sam’s playing bait that the kid takes a solid claw swipe to the stomach and shrinks down to practically miniscule from the pain. After the two older Winchesters manage to shoot down the monster, they spend the next twenty minutes carefully scouring the forest floor, searching for the now tiny Sammy. Dean spends the entire time going half out of his mind with worry and swearing to his father that they’re never going to use Sam for bait like this ever again, and John can’t even muster an argument against that.  
When they do finally find the tiny Winchester, Dean would shrink down too, to try to comfort him and help stop the bleeding, not to mention getting him to grow big enough that him and John could patch Sam up.


	48. Shrunken Destiel

A solid kick had the decrepit door flying open wide, the ramshackle thing barely hanging off its hinges as Dean stormed down the stairs, pistol in hand and fire in his eyes.   
The hunter flicked on the basement’s light, keeping his handgun at the ready as he quickly took in the cluttered shelves lining the walls. His green orbs widened when he realized that the numerous cages stacked on those shelves weren’t just for decoration.   
Lowering his firearm and breathing in deeply through his nose, taking in the scent of mold and fear that permeated the cellar’s stifling air, Dean approached the cages. His eyes scan over the miniature prison cells, taking in the tiny, frightened forms that shiver within. Some stare up at him with apprehension or anger, while others cower away or ignore Dean entirely.   
It sickened him to think that these were people- actual real life, honest to God human beings- who had been shrunk and locked away with no real hope of salvation. That Castiel was probably trapped down here in one of these cages only made it that much worse. Dean didn’t even want to  _think_ about Cas being locked away, but he has to check them all, just in case.   
He kneeled down on the grimy ground, frantically peering into the bottom cages. There were men, women, elderly, children, and everything in between, but no Castiel. With every cage that Dean checked, his heart sunk further and further. What if he couldn’t find Cas?   
Dean’s breath catches in his throat when he comes across a small, hunched over figure who’s wearing a tan overcoat, practically embodying misery. His small back is turned to the Winchester, so the hunter tried to coax the tiny to show him his face.   
“Hey, Cas, is that you? Can you turn around, man? Please? C’mon, buddy, you can do it.” The hunter’s voice was begging- for Cas to look at him, to stop looking so much like a sopping wet kitten, to be okay. “It’s me, Dean …” His words died away when the shrunken person turned around, and everything was wrong.   
His eyes were the wrong color- sandalwood tan instead of crisp cobalt- the facial shape too long, jaw not strong enough, and lips nowhere near as kissable as Castiel’s were.   
Dean’s face fell, and he couldn’t even muster an insult when the tiny man flipped him off. He wanted to grab hold of the look-alike’s cage and shake it in frustration, but terrorizing traumatized victims, even the bitchier ones, didn’t really sound that appealing right now. Taking a step away from the cages, Dean ran a hand over his face, trying to keep it together. Now was not the time.   
But then he hears it, a couple of rows down; a soft and hesitant and pleading, “D-Dean?”   
The next moment was somewhat of a blur, which really wasn’t too bad because next thing Dean knew he was staring through a bunch of tiny metal bars to look at an even tinier Castiel. His miniscule hands were fisted tight around the bars as if to ground himself, knuckles going white from the grip. Cas was just under five inches tall and staring up at Dean like he was the reason why the son rose.   
It took a minute and Cas uncertainly calling out his name again for Dean to snap out of it and realize he’d been gawking at the unbelievably small man. This was not what he’d expected running into this rescue mission, but he’d found Castiel, and Dean would always count that as a win.   
Suddenly his fingers felt huge and awkward as they clumsily fumbled with the lock, the comparison of their size to Castiel throwing Dean off. When Dean finally manages to open the cage, Castiel stumbled shakily out and collapsed onto the hunter’s waiting hand. Dean’s filled with a reverent awe at the fact that he was holding  _Castiel_ , the man who had once been an angel, whose true form must have towered over Dean like Dean now towers over Cas, in his hand like the guy was a fricken’ mouse or something. This was incredible, and terrifying. Cas weighed so little that Dean felt like he might blow the guy away if he breathed too hard.   
Putting the whole size thing aside, Castiel is so relieved that Dean is here now.   
Gratefulness is gushing from Cas like a geyser, the tiny man smiling so hard that it can’t not ache, his arms wrapped wide around Dean’s thumb and hugging with all they’re worth. “Thank you, thank you,  _thank you_ , Dean! I-I knew that you’d come for me,  _thank you_ ,” the shrunken man rambled, just so happy to be out of that cage.   
When Dean saw the glint of miniscule tears, he decided that he’d seen enough. Bringing the hand up to his chest, the Winchester softly curled his other hand over Cas’s back, running his fingertips soothingly over the body that jumped and hiccupped in time with Castiel’s sobs. He might not know what the Hell the sonuvabitch who took Cas and these other people had done besides shrink and trap them, but it was painfully obvious that it had been pretty bad.   
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. I’m here, Cas. I got you. Nothin’ bad’s gonna happened, me and Sammy’ll get you fixed up ASAP.” Dean comforted, placing the most gentle of kisses on top of Castiel’s head.   
It wasn’t long till Sam came pounding down the stairs, a little disheveled from taking down the asshat who caused this mess, but otherwise unharmed. The younger brother took one look at Dean and Castiel before telling Dean to go ahead and get Cas out of here, that he’d take care of the other victims. Dean couldn’t have agreed more- their tiny ex-angel had had enough of this place for a lifetime, no need to make Cas stay any longer.   
Carefully slipping Castiel into his breast pocket, Dean made his way out to the Impala. He kept a hand cupped over the small, warm body through the layer of fabric, offering what extra comfort and protection he could. By the time they’d made it back to Baby, the little guy had already fallen asleep and Dean couldn’t bring himself to disturb Cas’ sleep, so he just slid over to the passenger’s side of the seat, figuring that Sammy could drive, just this once.   
Dean kept watch over Castiel, taking his turn in guarding the man who had always been the Winchester’s guardian angel.


	49. Thanksgiving

Cas had a hard time getting out of bed these days. He’d been shrunk for a little more than two months now, and the ex-angel found the day easier to face if he chose not to face it at all.   
Nothing had the same appeal that it once did. The only thing Cas could seem to do right was sleep- which he did a lot of. Sometimes he felt tears prick at his eyes, but most of the time he felt nothing at all. He couldn’t find the energy to be bothered by that.   
Dean was worried. Cas could tell. It was obvious in the way he sought Castiel out more, how instead of the seldom physical contact between them, which was always only ever initiated to carry Cas from place to place, Dean’s touches were now a near constant- the oldest Winchester always offering soft brushes of his fingertips for reassurance and companionship, always picking Castiel up and letting him rest on his shoulder or against his chest, offering warmth and safety in his hold.   
Cas hated it; he couldn’t stand Dean’s pity. He’d rather waste away than be subjected to it again, but Dean could never leave good enough alone.   
Castiel’s actually surprised that he’s been allowed to sleep in this long. Usually Dean would have already come by to get Cas to start going through his daily motions. Maybe he’d finally figured out that Castiel would much rather stay in bed all day.   
He should’ve known he’d never get that lucky though.   
Dean came in half an hour later, all gentle smiles and concerned looks. It took a bit of poking and prodding, but the Winchester managed to get Castiel out of bed- which was really nothing more than some soft, folded up flannels.   
A few minutes later they were headed down the hall to the kitchen. Cas kept his face tucked away in Dean’s sleeve, where he was able to sigh listlessly to himself without the man noticing. It was when an amazingly delicious smell, one that managed to stir a bit of hunger in Castiel when he hadn’t craved food for the last couple of weeks, drifted through the air that Cas finally looked up from where he’d tried to bury himself in Dean’s clothes.   
“Dean?” His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat and tried again. Looks like not talking for long amounts of time can wear down on your vocal cords. “Dean, what is all of this?”   
A feast- yes, a feast, because there was at least enough food for ten (fully sized) people here- was spread out on the kitchen table. Tantalizing steam wafted up from a perfect golden turkey, mouthwatering mashed potatoes, creamy green bean casserole, some type of sweet yam dish, and an assortment of pies that all looked fresh out of the oven. Jugs of apple cider and sparkling cider and eggnog and beer were spread around, alongside a huge bowl of fruit salad.   
Castiel knew that all the food was homemade, he recognized the love and time that Dean put into each and every dish, how it wasn’t just a chore but a passion. No wonder Dean had taken longer than usual to wake Cas up; he’d been slaving away in the kitchen for hours, probably since an unseemly hour in the morning.   
“Happy Thanksgiving, Cas,” Dean said, sliding into a chair and carefully letting the small man step off his hand and onto the table.   
There was some type of emotion welling up inside of Castiel, but he couldn’t tell what it was just yet.   
“Oh. Where is Sam?” Cas asked as Dean herded him over to a tiny plate, just right for his size. His understanding was that Thanksgiving was supposed to be a family gathering, or had he gotten that mixed up with something else?   
Dean smiled. “He’s in the library, hitting the books- as usual. Don’t worry though, I made sure that he got a full plate.” He brushed the tips of his fingers over Castiel’s shoulders, rubbing his thumb up and down the small man’s arm. “It’s just you and me tonight, bud. You can have as much to eat or drink of anything you want. Go nuts, man,” the hunter encouraged, gesturing grandly to the food with his free hand.   
“Dean …” Castiel started to protest, but he was cut off by the giant of a man sitting beside him.   
“Wait! I almost forgot.” Dean moved so that his arms were crossed on the table, his chin resting on top of them so that he was nearly level with Castiel. His twinkling green eyes grew a bit more solemn. “We’re supposed to say what we’re thankful for this year.”   
Castiel looked away from those expressive orbs, instead choosing to stare at his clenched fists. Now he’s pretty sure that that feeling he’s feeling isn’t a happy one. He wishes he’d shrink just enough that Dean wouldn’t be able to look at him like that anymore- like Cas is the reason why Dean’s ridiculous happiness from a moment before has faded.   
“Cas, do you know what I’m thankful for?” He waited until the small man was looking up at him again, silently questioning. “I’m thankful for you. Hey, hey, hey, c’mon, Cas, you need to hear this.” Dean carefully slid a fingertip under the Castiel’s chin and guided his face back towards Dean’s. “Look … whether you’re big or small, Cas, you gotta know that I- that I-”   
“I know, Dean.” Castiel tried to spare Dean, seeing how much the man was struggling to put thoughts into words.   
“No, you don’t!” The Winchester exclaimed “If you did, then things wouldn’t’ve gotten this bad! Sam may have been the one to really get it through my thick skull, but I knew something was up with you. I know I suck at this whole touchy feely chick flic crap, but Cas, man, you gotta know-”   
“Know what?” He asked, interrupting tiredly. Cas was worn out and exhausted, and he hadn’t even been out of bed for ten minutes.   
Dean’s mouth worked silently, brow furrowing helplessly before determination hardened his features. A gasp escaped Castiel’s lips as the fingers that were gently curled around him suddenly slid under him and scooped the tiny man up, lifting him up and bringing him to hover an inch in front of Dean’s face. From this close, he could see every single freckle on the man’s face, distinguish every shade in those gorgeous green eyes, feel the warm puffs of breath against his skin. Cas was having a bit of trouble deciding which eye to meet with his gaze.   
That was when Dean’s lips pressed down against Castiel’s chest, succeeding in stealing the man’s breath away. Cas stared up in awe at Dean, a warm feeling spreading through his body, centering from where the hunter had kissed him.   
“Castiel,” another kiss on his shoulder, “I’m always here for you,” a third on the other one, “when you need me,” another placed on his legs, “’cause whether you’re taller than Sam,” one each on his hands, “or shorter than a gummy bear,” a kiss on his teeny tiny feet, “or you’re high as a cloud,” one on the top of his head, “or feeling low as dirt,” and one on his tummy, “I love you, Cas.” The final kiss was the softest of them all, those twin cushions pressing oh so sweetly against the shrunken man’s face.   
Cas was tingling- his body practically humming with the most emotion he’d felt in far too long. He didn’t mean for it to happen, but tears started streaming down his cheeks, sobs hiccupping in his chest as the shrunken man placed a hand over his mouth to try and stifle the sound. He should be happy right now, not sad- Cas was ruining this moment. Moving to turn away from Dean and curl in on himself, Castiel was caught off guard when the man brought Cas up to hug him gently against his collar bone.   
“It’s okay. You don’t need to face this alone anymore. I’m here, Cas.”   
And that just made Castiel cry harder, but Dean didn’t seem to mind. He just kept on whispering his reassurance and holding the small body close until Cas had calmed down- a thing which took an embarrassing amount of time.   
When he finally felt like he had regathered himself enough, Cas hugged Dean back. The hunter let them stay like that for a while, before lifting Cas up again so they were face to face.   
“Thank you,” Cas said softly, feeling a bit like himself again. He kept going when it looked like Dean would protest. “No, Dean. I needed this. Thank you.”   
Judging the space between them, Castiel stood up and stepped forward on the hand, leaning across the gap to press a kiss of his own against Dean’s lips. It may have lasted only a second, and been as light as a butterfly’s wings, but Dean melted against it.   
“Dean! Cas!” Sam shouted, running into the kitchen, grinning like a madman. “I found the cure!” He waved around a raggedy old book, one that presumably held said cure, only to freeze when he noticed what an intimate moment he’d intruded on. His face adopted the distinct look of a moose caught in the headlights. “Uh.” Sam said, retreating backwards out of the room. “Nevermind, I can- I’ll just come back later.” He ran into a chair. Then tripped over his own feet. Then stumbled into the doorframe. “You guys just keep on- or, um, whatever.”   
After about thirty seconds of silence and listening to Sam mutter curses towards himself as he hurried down the hall, the two men collapsed into laughter, Dean clutching at his sides and Cas holding tight to Dean’s thumb as they collapsed into near hysterics.   
It was a good day.


	50. PipSqueak

It’s just sitting there. Sitting there, watching him, like it has been for the last ten minutes since Sam slipped and fell down the godforsaken gap between the dresser and the wall and gotten stuck in its web.   
Sam never knew that spiders could actually sit, but that’s all that this one’s been doing- well, besides staring him down. If Sam wasn’t so terrified and helplessly caught in the arachnid’s web, he’s pretty sure that he might even find the thing kind of adorable.   
It was about as big as a golden retriever, with colorful stripes of blue, white, and black decorating its fuzzy body. Instead of being unnerving and glazed over, all eight black eyes were soulful and innocent looking.   
Sam really hated the fact that he was going to be eaten by something so cute. Dean would laugh at his tiny grave.   
When the spider finally starts to crawl forward, Sam works hard not to struggle or make any more movement than absolutely necessary. He didn’t want to excite it, trigger some type of frenzy. It had been a conscious internal battle not to try and break free of the sticky webbing that binds him in the first place, knowing that the vibrations traveling through the strands would only bring about his end sooner. Not that delaying it has helped the small hunter in any way at all.   
He shut his eyes and focused on just breathing when he felt the spider brush up against his leg. Throwing his head back, Sam tried to think of being anywhere but here. Dean wasn’t going to swoop in at the last moment to save Sam this time; no, his big brother had only left about an hour ago to head out to the library, which was a twenty-minute drive by itself. Sam was completely and utterly screwed.   
But instead of the agonizing bite that Sam had been bracing himself for, he felt a strange, resounding  _twang_ vibrate through his body as one of the taut webs suddenly went slack. The Winchester’s attention instantly snapped over towards where the sound had come from, and he watched, amazed, as the spider went from strand to strand and broke the lines, slowly but surely setting Sam free.   
“Wha-” Sam started to ask right as the final web was cut, efficiently breaking off his question with a yelp as he dropped to the ground below.   
He landed with a thud, but thankfully the fall was only a few inches compared to the original fall of over four feet. Sam winced as he stood up, stretching a bit to loosen up again. It took him a moment to realize that the spider had suddenly appeared a few inches in front of him. Once again, it just sat there, watching him, waiting for Chuck knows what.   
Sam slowly starts backing up, unsure of the spider’s intentions now. He raises his hands a bit, whether as a sign of peace or for the arachnid to stay, Sam can’t decide.   
The moment the spider’s eight eyes see Sam’s hands rise, it launches itself forward.   
Sam didn’t even have enough time to withdraw his hand before the spider was upon him. However, instead of the limb getting bitten off, it was being  _cuddled_ . The spider is literally nuzzling his outstretched hand, all warm and fuzzy and surprisingly not trying to eat him.   
Pretty sure by now that he must’ve hit his head on the way down, Sam slowly flexes his hand, closes his eyes, and  _pets_ the  _spider_ .   
A strange chirping sound fills the air, like some type of exotic bird or cheetah. It thrums through the spider and up Sam’s hand and the arachnid gets excited. Sam’s in awe as the spider closes its onyx eyes while leaning up against the tiny hunter, insistently seeking out more pets.    
Swallowing nervously, the Winchester slowly tries to pull away, knowing that he still needs to get out of here and back up somewhere where Dean will find him when his big brother gets back. Too bad that the spider seems to have other things in mind.   
It leaps on top of him, sending Sam sprawling on the dusty floor. Even still, it doesn’t bite, only scurries energetically all over his body, and damnit, all of its legs kinda tickle. Sam can’t help but start to laugh, and even when he stands back up, the spider continues to crawl all over him.   
Eventually, Sam manages to capture it into a hug, holding the spider in his arms, no longer afraid of it. Fluffy white and black striped mandibles that remind him of a silly moustache tickle his face, drawing another chuckle from the man.   
“Hey.” Sam said, putting on a firm face and hardening his voice just a bit. “I don’t have time to play. I’ve gotta get out of here and back up there.” He pointed way up towards the top of the dresser, high in the distance. The spider’s eyes flickered, following the direction before settling back to look at his face. “I’m sorry, you seem really, really sweet, but I’ve got to go.” Sam set the spider down.   
It stayed still this time, doing nothing more than watching Sam for a moment before turning and scurrying off. A small sigh escaped Sam, the man sad to see the spider go. He’d always wanted a dog, and that spider had reminded him of one- just with more legs, eyes, and interesting colors.   
He looked back to the dresser, wondering how in the word Sam was going to manage this. (Maybe he could go underneath? No, he might get lost, and who know what could be under there. Going around would be a ridiculously long trek, and still leave him on the floor. And up hardly seemed like an option, unless Sam suddenly sprouted wings and could fly.) Yet, it seemed like he wouldn’t have to. The spider had returned, nudging against the hunter’s hand with its head and offering him a thick line of web. It had quickly gathered up the wrecked remnants of its nest and stringed it together into a rope.   
Sam took the offered strand, kneeling down in front of the spider and petting it warmly. “Wow. A rope, huh? You’re really smart. Thank you.”   
The spider chittered happily and turned away. It grabbed the other end of the web, jumped up onto the dresser, and started climbing. The rope itself was actually very long, so it took a while before it went taut in Sam’s hands. He started to climb up behind the amiable arachnid. Sam had tied the rope around his waist and now walked straight up the side of the dresser, still keeping a firm grip on the web with his hands.   
His muscles ached and his hands burned, but Sam kept going until he dragged himself over the top. The spider, who had been waiting (im)patiently for him, ecstatically pounced atop Sam and proceeded to roll all over him.   
But then the spider’s weight suddenly disappeared. Sam sat up, looking around, only to find his fuzzy friend inexplicably gone. What happened? He stood up, puzzled. Hearing a sound behind him, Sam grinned and turned, only to freeze.   
Oh, it was a spider alright. Just not Sam’s spider. This one was bigger than Sam himself, at least twice his size. It had long, spindly legs and a fat, bloated body. Its exoskeleton shinnied sickly, fangs black and dripping with venom, and eight soulless eyes trained firmly upon Sam.   
The hunter’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. He knew he had no chance. This spider would snatch him up in an instant and could practically eat him whole.   
One single leg lifted up and moved towards Sam.   
But before another step could be taken, suddenly Sam’s friend, the small blue spider, who looked absolutely tiny compared to this giant monster, jumped out of nowhere and right onto the fiend’s back. It helped on for dear life as the behemoth screeched, an unearthly, chilling sound which only got louder when the small spider sunk its fangs into the back of its head. It bit down again and again as the spider beneath it bucked and writhed and screamed, but finally, when the humongous creature collapsed, the tiny spider crawled off.   
It comes towards Sam, who takes a quick step backwards, wary of the tiny, and now obviously very poisonous spider. That draws a sad little chirrup from the arachnid, who doesn’t stop approaching, just slows down. Slinking up to Sam’s side and nuzzling his hand, Sam will be damned again if the spider wasn’t giving him puppy dog eyes- and Sam knew puppy dog eyes when he saw them.   
When Sam gives the spider a pat on the back, the arachnid practically jumps with joy, chittering and chirruping with happiness. For the next hour or so, he and the spider play around, avoiding the giant spider corpse that still twitches every once and awhile. Sam’s decided to name the spider Pipsqueak, and call it Pip for short.   
Pip proved to be far more intelligent than Sam ever would have assumed. When the Winchester yawned, more than a little exhausted by the day’s insane events, Pipsqueak had made him an honest-to-God hammock to sleep in. The webs were strong, but giving, and also not sticky at all. Once Sam settled in, Pip climbed up onto his lap and stayed there, making those strange purr-like sounds. It was one of the best naps that Sam had gotten in years.   
Sam really should have thought about how it would look to Dean though when he returned; his little shrunken brother surrounded by a web with a spider on him, and a  _gigantic_ spider lying dead just a half foot away. Admittedly, it was not Sam’s finest moment of foresight.   
Also, Dean screams like a girl whenever he sees a spider. Just thought you should know that.   
Him and Pipsqueak were out of the web-hammock the moment the shrill screeches starting trying to burst their eardrums.   
A fist descended from above, aiming to squash Pipsqueak beneath it. The spider scurried out of the way just in time to dodge the first blow, but it was obvious it wouldn’t stand a chance against the next. Sam dove forward, covering his friend with his body as the fist came plummeting down on them. However, the hit never came.   
Sam looked up, still covering a tremoring tiny spider, and swallowed at the clenched hand hovering half an inch overhead. It pulled away, revealing Dean’s panicked face up above them.   
“What type of stunt was that, Sam? You gone suicidal on me?” He exclaimed. “I almost killed you!” When Sam stood up, revealing Pipsqueak who was currently clinging to his chest like a monkey, Dean shrieked. “Shit, Sam, get that thing off of you! It’s gonna eat your face!”   
Sam snickered, quirking an eyebrow at Dean’s reaction. While he’d thought pretty similarly when he’d first seen Pipsqueak, the shrunken hunter knew better now. “Dean. Pipsqueak’s not gonna hurt me. It actually saved my life, believe it or not.”   
“I’m gonna go with ‘not’.” Dean snarked, eying the fuzzy blue arachnid edgily. “I’m starting to think that your sanity got shrunk along with your height. That thing is creepy and dangerous. You shouldn’t let it crawl all over you like that, or get anywhere near you for that matter.”   
“Come on, Dean, just give it a chance. Here, hold out your hand and Pipsqueak will show you how sweet and kind it is.”   
The older brother shuddered at the thought, taking a step away. “No way in Hell, Sam. You wanna keep your freaky spider pet, that’s your deal. I’m fine with keeping my distance, thank you very much.”   
“Chicken,” Sam muttered, grinning cheekily as he pet down his companion’s back.   
Even after Sam’s height was fixed, Pipsqueak still hung around, much to Dean’s displeasure and Sam’s delight. The tiny arachnid liked to cuddle up against Sam’s fingertips and be (very,  _very_ carefully) pet the affectionate creature. It took up to taking rides with Sam in his hair and setting up webs on Sam’s side of the room.   
One time when Dean goes to pick up Sam from the library, he finds a long, stretching web crafted to stretch over the table where Sam has hung his notes and scraps of paper, all well-organized and sorted thanks to Pipsqueak’s help.   
So while it might not be a dog, Sam still got that pet he’d always wanted.


	51. Left Out

**[chewbaccaaah](http://chewbaccaaah.tumblr.com/)** asked:

Both Sam and human Cas got shrunk, so Dean takes care of them until the curse wears off, but they are just as worried about him as he is of them. A.K.A Dean can't overhear their tiny, hushed, private conversation and feels left out and lonely despite having his favorite people in the world two feet away from him.

All I can picture is Dean sitting there, feeling rejected, thinking ‘I don’t get it- I’ve practically been running myself into the ground to make sure these two are warm, fed, comfortable, bored, and not to mention SAFE (which has not been easy at all at their size), but for some reason they don’t want me as part of their Sam-and-Cas club.’  
But what Dean doesn’t understand is it’s that he’s doing all of those things that has the guys so concerned. Yes, they do need help right now, but that doesn’t mean Dean can just totally ignore his own needs and wellbeing to keep them safe.  
The tinies start suggesting doing stuff that makes Dean happy. They pretend it’s all them, but they’re really just doing it because they know those things would cheer Dean up. Like watching old Westerns together or requesting bacon or pie or a cheeseburger.  
Sam would definitely tell Dean that Cas has been asking about the Impala, so Dean gives Cas a little tour of his baby. That’d be the first time in weeks that Dean actually gets to hang out with his baby; he’s been too busy with the guys to have free time for her. And now that Cas is human, he might need to learn some basics about the car!  
But Dean still notices their constantly soothing tones, like they’re always trying to keep him calm or satisfied or something (while in reality they just don’t wanna stress him out more than he already is, knowing how hard this has been for him). Dean just can’t help but feel like they’re keeping something from him, and that feeling just keeps growing deep from inside of him until all he’s doing is waiting for the other shoe to drop but he doesn’t even know what could be wrong and Dean really hates this curse.  
Dean’s totally on edge and this just increases the shrunken guy’s worry for him which makes for more whispers and softer tones and Dean just can’t take it anymore! So, one day when they’re over there on the other side of the table Dean finally cracks. He freaks out and shouts at his shrunken family but then he sees how startled the two, notices that small hint of fear even from across the table and then he’s about five seconds from breaking down.  
Dean would do anything for these two and he just doesn’t understand why they don’t want to be around him anymore- is it something he did? Dean just doesn’t know- but if they don’t wanna be around him anymore then he’s basically been keeping them prisoner this entire time, but he can’t give them space because what if something happened while he wasn’t there? He has to be there for his family, but if they didn’t want him, then what?  
So as all this comes spilling out the two tiny members of Team Free Will realize exactly what has been happening on Dean’s side. The next couple of minutes are spent clearing everything up and apologizing. Picture Sam and Cas crawling up Dean’s arms from where they’re covering his head on the table and they keep saying all these kind, sweet things as they rub the giant’s shoulders and things are finally good again.  
Dean now understands everything that’s been happening and finally listens to the guys, getting some much needed and well-deserved sleep. He takes Cas and Sam with him of course, and the little guys cuddle up on his chest or against his neck. It’s their turn to look after him for a change.


	52. Add on to TinyTeamFreeWill's post

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half ISN'T MINE! I just added onto it. Please give all credit to TinyTeamFreeWill and go check out their blog over on Tumblr!

**Anonymous** asked:

Hmmmm. Well, here's a prompt if you're interested (: Sam is shrunk & gets stuck to the end of Dean's favorite sex toy, which Dean chooses to have some special alone time with, completely unaware of what he's putting Sam through. Please & thank you 😘

**[tinyteamfreewill](http://tinyteamfreewill.tumblr.com/post/178399786387/hmmmm-well-heres-a-prompt-if-youre-interested)** answered:

It just so happens Dean’s favorite toy is a fleshlight. Sam finds himself at the very end of it, but it isn’t all that huge to begin with. He doesn’t know where he is, not at first. It’s almost clear, sort of a foggy translucent so that daylight streams into it easily and the world outside is a colorful blur like the outside of a shower stall. 

Loud, reverberating thumps shake the world that he’ll later realize are footsteps. He sees clear ridges, soft silicon swirls and rings, and an opening to the tunnel at the very end. Shortly thereafter, dark fleshy-looking masses wrap around the tunnel and then the world shakes, throwing him back against the far wall.

Some loud sound fills the air, a grumbled, “MMMM.” He doesn’t know what it is or what’s going on, but it sounds somehow familiar. There’s a friction-y ear-splitting squeak, a pop, a slick sound of skin on skin, and soon a shadow fills the entrance.

It takes him a minute to realize what he’s looking at. A flesh-colored smooth-looking rounded thing with a dark doorway-sized slit at the top. It hovers at the entrance like it’s waiting for him to realize what it is, and coincidentally it pushes in the second he does.

It’s a cock head. It glides smoothly forth like a predator, clearing an insane amount of distance in almost no time, and for a startling second Sam thinks it’s going to crush him against the back wall.

It doesn’t. It stops just a few feet shy of him and he’s left staring eye to eye at it, slit agape, an arm’s length away. Above him, another “mmm” sound. The cock slowly, slowly retreats. Stupidly, ridiculously, he thinks it’s over. The cock leaves the fleshlight entirely.

And then it’s back again, sliding forth. It doesn’t pause the second time, just pulls out as quickly as it went in, and it doesn’t fully leave. That’s when Sam’s situation really occurs to him. His brother’s jacking himself off with this thing, and he has no idea.

“DEAN- DEAN STOP, I’M IN HERE-” But he’s drown out by a soft moan. The world shifts rather suddenly. Dean flops down onto the bed, tilting the fleshlight up rather than parallel to the floor. Sam goes tumbling end over end until he’s on his back at one of the larger soft rings, and before he can say a singular word Dean’s cock is shoving forth again, smashing him into the silicon and pulsing hard, heavy, hot on top of him.

Dean groans, finds a sweet spot, a particularly good angle that he’s never found before in this thing. “Damn, baby, whatever that is, that’s amazing…”

He murmurs to himself, picking up the speed, deliberately jerking himself and angling his bundle of nerves unconsciously over Sam’s prone body. Precum oozes down his tip, soaks Sam’s front when he pulls out again, and soon he sets off at a speedy rhythm, fucking over Sam faster and harder.

“Dean- please don’t come- please don’t come on me-”

Dean goes faster, his gasps filling the air, his cock pulsing and throbbing over his brother. Sam can feel how close he is, he can feel through the pulsing and the twitching that Dean’s really enjoying himself. He can feel rolling throbs running through it, and he knows Dean’s chasing an orgasm no matter how loudly Sam begs him not to.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come-”

“NO, PLEASE-”

“Mmm, yeah, I’m gonna- Tssss, fuck-”

He slams the fleshlight down, Sam stuck to the bottom of is cock head, and COMES in thick, pleasurable rolling throbs. Semen oozes from him and fills the floor of the thing, coating Sam in the process, nearly drowning him in it.

Dean doesn’t seem to notice or care. He continues, idly stroking it and Sam over his softening cock.

He leaves it on himself as he dozes.

[ ](https://pocketable-spn.tumblr.com/post/178431326185/hmmmm-well-heres-a-prompt-if-youre-interested)

[pocketable-spn](https://pocketable-spn.tumblr.com/post/178431326185/hmmmm-well-heres-a-prompt-if-youre-interested)

Oh man, I love this so much! Reading other people’s stuff is so inspiring, you got me thinking all sorts of wonderful terrible things about tiny Winchesters again! You and Shrinky have always been my favorite blogs, and it’s so nice to see you posting again! Plus, I totally adored this response- it’s so damn _hot_!

But picture if it doesn’t end there~

Sam originally wants to believe it was just a fluke. After Dean ditched the fleshlight to finally go clean up, Sam was quite suddenly and inexplicably returned to his normal height. He wasn’t even soaked in cum anymore, which comes as a complete relief. The Winchester doesn’t want to think about what just happened ever again, let alone try and explain to Dean why he’s covered from head to toe in semen. Yeah, no thanks.

If it wasn’t for the fleshlight that was dribbling come all over Dean’s bed where he’d left it, Sam would have thought it was all a dream. A really, really fucked up dream. But he’d never been that lucky. Something was messing with him, _again_ , and this time there was no way he was going to tell Dean. Sam would just have to find and gank this thing on his own.

Problem is, two weeks and lots of research later, Sam hasn’t found any clues as to what targeted him. No one else has reported any freaky accidents of shrinking down and then getting used by their brother as masturbation-aid. Sam’s just about to give up and let it go when it happens again.

He may or may not have salted and burned Dean’s fleshlight in secret, which had left Dean to go find a different toy to enjoy in the meanwhile. Imagine Sam’s horror and panic when he goes from checking out a book in the library one second, to shrunk and stuck to the top of Dean’s dildo the next.

He’s sprawled out on his back, looking up at Dean’s giant ass and he _can’t get up_. “Oh _come on_. No, this _isn’t_ happening, not again- Dean- _Dean_!! I’m down here yo-” Sam splutters and coughs as lube is drizzled onto of him, dripping down over the rest of the silicone cock and slicking him up for what comes next. “Please, Dean, _please_ , just look down!” He begged, but it was no use.

Sam screwed his eyes shut tight as Dean lowered his ass, seeming to savor the feeling of slowly pushing Sam deeper and deeper inside of him. He clenched tight around the dildo when he bottomed out, and Sam wheezed, feeling like he was going to be crushed. Before that could happen, Dean’s ass was already loosening around him and pulling back up off of him. Sam got a brief, split second of fresh air and light that didn’t last anywhere near long enough before he was abruptly shoved back inside of his brother, forced to take the brunt force of the fucking Dean was giving himself.

And then Dean changed the angle and Sam was getting rammed against his prostate over and over again, his body driving Dean closer to orgasm with each and every shove. It’s too much, Sam’s body can’t take it all. When Dean comes, Sam blissfully loses consciousness from lack of air, body aching and face pinned against Dean’s prostate.

Meanwhile, Dean’s pretty sure he just found a new favorite toy.


End file.
